


Between the Lines

by bakerstreetchick22



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: A Lot of Philosophy, Bonding over books, College AU, Crush at First Sight, Depression mentions, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Relationships, Existential Crisis, Flirting, Fluff and Feels, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Innocent, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ryan Bergara Loves Shane Madej, Wordcount: 50.000-100.000, a lot crying, a lot of books, allusions to suicidal thoughts, and struggling, bois are just soft, bookshop au, but no boys were harmed in the writing of this fic, but things do really get better, but things work out, mainly nihilistic feelings, mild stalking? but mainly just Ryan trying to be a detective, ryan is one too, shane is bookworm, shyan, some complicated emotions, some darker notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 64,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23998393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakerstreetchick22/pseuds/bakerstreetchick22
Summary: Ryan's in college and for the past eight months, he has been wrapped up reading books from a mysterious recommender that is only identified as “S” in his local college bookstore. He has been trying to piece together who “S” is for months to no avail- but when he meets a handsome and helpful sales clerk he thinks he might have found his man!(so- this fic has a frosting thin layer of fluff- but things quickly spiral into deep feelings and crisis and anxieties- just as a warning- things do get better- but it's not as easy as it seems it's going to be!!)
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej, Shane Madej/Ryan Bergara
Comments: 345
Kudos: 257





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi you guys :D
> 
> This is just a spin from a little headcanon of mine about Shane having the best book recommendations and such. I just wanted to write something fun and light considering everything that's going on in the world! This one will be shorter- I expect to finish it in around four to five chapters - but I might expand my current plot as I had so much fun writing it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading! (comments and kudos <3 always appreciated!!)

Ryan woke up at the sound of his alarm. It was six am- which wasn’t any cause for excitement- but it was also Friday. Fridays were the best days. Fridays were when a new book would appear on that certain aisle, beyond the landing of the second floor of Calypso’s Bookstore, cradled within the wire holder that said “Recommendations ~ S” in chalk letters. 

“S” Ryan always had liked how that letter was turned, not quite cursive but not quite print either. It was crookedly curved and yet- yet at the same time it was perfect. 

Imaginative? Arty? Whity?

It was crazy how easy it was to attach a personality to that “S”- to someone he didn’t even know. See, Calypso’s was a busy place- a community- filled with university professors, students, employees and hipsters. “S” could be anyone of them and he had very reluctantly given up long ago trying to seriously figure out who it was. His inquisitive mind didn't want to let go but it was hopeless unless he asked. But if he asked what then- what if they weren’t who he expected- what if it somehow it got awkward and things turned wrong- what would he even say if he met them: 

“I noticed that you were having a crisis back in September?” 

Because he had noticed. They usually liked the classics- history too- and every now and again a few excellent thrillers. But in the middle of September the flow changed to “The Myth of Sisyphus,” “On Death and Dying,” and “Notes from the Underground.” No one reads those back to back by choice. Unless, of course, the choice is made for you by some existential panic... 

Maybe Ryan was reading too much into it. But there was something fantastic about trying to piece together who they were and what was going on with them. It was like a secret conversation- a private and personal aside with a stranger. And that didn’t just happen every day- well- except on Fridays. 

Breakfast that morning was quickly hurried through, as even though the shop didn’t open till ten, he was impatient. Grabbing a stack of his class notes, he shoved them in his bag and wrapped up in a coat and picked up an umbrella. It was nearly summer- but the clouds were still going to have their final say before vacating for the hot months. 

The rain was warm and steady as he walked down the campus side street past the Arts buildings and into the coffee shop that was across the street from Calypso’s. As he drank his favorite drink and half read through his assignments, every so often he’d glance through the foggy window of the shop, letting his eyes drift across the street. He could feel himself hoping- hoping almost beyond his own acknowledgement- to spy movement on the second floor- like a child peeping down the stairs on Christmas Eve. But no movement was seen, to his expected but still irksome disappointment. 

Returning, more earnestly to his work, the hours ticked by and soon it was 10:30. Quickly, he packed up his things and waved goodbye to his favorite Barista. In a half-skip half-jog he splashed through the rain and bounded up the curb to the bookstore. Pushing through the weathered door, the bell rang above him, a nice and familiar sound. 

Inside the store was already bustling with the regulars- who were already taking up their common haunts. While he was an avid patron, he couldn’t beat the dedication of some of them. The romantic lit professors practically ran their office out of Calypso's and could, without fail, always be found nesting in leather armchairs with stacks of papers and red pens by their side. Near them were the groupie grad students, mimicking every word the professors said and eagerly shuttling coffee back and forth across the street. They were all on the first floor today- as always. 

He shuffled his way by them and around the displays of best sellers towards the back, passing the Wiccan Craft Club- they gathered here every Friday too. Today it was Sigil cross-stitching. Spooky- but fun. One day he had the notion to join them and see what it was all about. Maybe they could help him find who “S” was he mused. But then again the Occult was a bunch of nonsense- ghosts yeah- but magic? 

Taking the steps two at a time, he wound his way up the spiral staircase to the second floor. The worn rugs that lined the upper aisles softly gave way under his steps, as he followed the familiar path. His eyes lit up. 

“The Spy Who Came in from the Cold” 

Well, that was an interesting selection. They usually didn’t pick espionage books. Excited, he picked up the book and began reading the summary- even though he knew he was going to buy it anyway. A wry smile formed on his face. It was about East Germany. Two months ago “S” had recommended a nonfiction book “Anatomy of a Dictatorship” that was all about the Soviets involvement in East Germany. He could put some of the pieces together. 

Tucking a copy under his arm, he went back downstairs to the checkout. It was 10 till 11:00 and his first lecture began at 11:20, so he couldn’t really linger any longer. Placing the book on the counter, he began to shuffle distractedly through his bag for his money. 

“Great choice,” Hummed an unfamiliar voice. 

Ryan's attention quickly redirected to the register. Leaning over the counter, happily scanning the book, was an unusually tall and lanky guy with bright eyes that shone right through Ryan. He had never seen him before, and he was sure of that because he would have remembered it. As the man moved, his long unruly swirls of chestnut hair made a bob and he could feel his ears turn red. 

“Have you read it?” Ryan managed to say, his mouth suddenly dry. 

“Yes, actually, I have read that one- and I venture to think that you’ll enjoy it too,” He smiled. 

His face was by no external metric perfect- but it had wonderful sort of charm- a charm that was making Ryan's brain go all fuzzy. 

“Y’know,” He mused, putting the book in a bag, “It is surprisingly hard to actually read when you work in a bookstore.” 

“Too many choices?” Ryan laughed- a nervous god awful laugh- but he didn’t seem to notice. 

“It’s the agony of my existence!” He exclaimed with comedic air, “Sometimes- y’know- I’d rather walk into the sea then make a decision.” 

Ryan giggled, pressing his hand up to his mouth to stop it from running away with itself and sounding any more ridiculous. 

“That’ll be 13.95,”

“Oh!” Ryan jumped, forgetting that there was an actual transaction going on, and swiped his card. In between the digits of his pin he stole several glances upwards at the guys name tag. 

“Shane,” 

His ears got redder with the realization- Shane! Was “S” for Shane? The anxiety of being around such a cute guy soared- neigh skyrocketed- in an instant. 

Taking the bag from Shane Ryan blurted out a shaky: “Thank-you”

“Don’t mention it-” Shane beamed, “Come back soon!” 

He nodded. There needn’t be any worry. Ryan would be back- and on more days than usual. Ripping his eyes away from him, he walked out of the store and into the rain. Putting his umbrella up, he began to walk slowly towards his lecture hall- and for once he was thankful that it was on the other side of campus. The long walk there would give him time to cool off from whatever had just happened. 

He might not even be “S” he told himself. Don't jump to conclusions- Don't get in over your head already! So what- he had read the book- he works in a bookstore- of course he is well-read- of course he reads things. On top of that, you have never seen him before today and you have been reading the recommends for almost eight months now! In all likelihood it wasn’t “S” and to think so was just wishful dreams… dreams…

A smile formed on Ryan's mouth. Even if Shane wasn’t “S” he was still something- Ryan could feel it- definitely- definitely something. As Ryan rounded the sidewalk and strolled up the library lawn, “Come back soon” replayed in his mind and he knew that he wouldn’t hear a word of the lecture. 

And he didn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!!!! Thanks for all the lovely support!!!! It means everything to me <333
> 
> I'm finally done with my finals so I will have more time to write- so hopefully, updates will come quicker!! :DD
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iD4dMdpNe_I&t=14093s   
> also if you want something to listen too for the atmosphere!!

The book was good- as always. Ryan had spent every spare moment, even staying up far into the night, for the past three days trying to finish it. It was a page-turner, that much was true. It was slow but it was burning with twists and turns and Cold War shenanigans. But he knew the real reason why he couldn’t put it down and that was due to a much more personal type of espionage.

The book was lonely. No one in it got what they wanted. Everyone was searching for something they couldn’t have- the governments wanted power- the spy wanted freedom. And as he finally closed the last page he felt his mind alight with theories as he was struck with the meaning of it all. You, see the spy dies at the end. He dies by refusing to bend the coldness of the system- he dies for love. None of the other books “S” had recommended had ended like that- with such a sentiment… Usually, there was a strong nihilistic or absurdist comedy to the books that Ryan had read. But this was honest. It was poignant. It made him think things.

He took a sip of his drink. It was Monday evening- and the rain still hadn’t stopped. He watched it from the cafe windows as it ran down the street in rivers. It would be a humid summer. But for now, it was pleasant. He ran his finger across the cover of the book, as if to absorb the aura of the words and the hands that had read them before himself.

“S” he thought. “Shane” he hoped.

He packed up his things and headed to the bookstore. This had been his third time visiting in as many days. He had been bringing paperwork and his laptop to look busy but in truth, he was there to shamelessly spy. From over the top of his laptop and from between the cracks of the shelves, he had been watching him as he moved around the shop like a classical conductor- adjusting shelves- stocking books- and drinking tea on his breaks. He had a way of moving smoothly around the store that gave the impression that he had always been there.

As he came into the store, Shane turned to him and smiled- God how he smiled.

“Hiya welcome in!” He greeted, his voice sing-songy.

“Hi!” Ryan waved, wondering if it was becoming obvious that he was the reason he was here.

“Looks like you have a lot of work on your hands,” He pointed, to the piles of stuff in Ryan was carrying.

He might have gone a little overkill this time, but he wanted a good excuse to stay.

“Oh it’s nothing-” Ryan ruffled literally and emotionally, “Just some grading- I’m a TA for this film class.”

“Film,” He sounded it out, with a lovely hum, “I can get down to that!”

I can get down on you. Ryan bit his lip. Had he actually just thought that- usually he wasn't such a pushover- but something about his gaze made him feel helpless to it.

“Yeah,” Ryan smiled, reflexively adjusting the strap to his bag, “It’s pretty interesting stuff.”

“Well,” Shane said gesturing to the shop, “I hope you find some peace and quiet and whatever else you are looking for.”

“Thanks,” Ryan nodded, partially avoiding his gaze lest he was lost in it.

Pushing past the bookcases of the classics, he took up space in a little cove constituted of a refurbished writing desk and a fern. He like sitting here because the fern obscured his face- or least he hoped it did- so that he could sneak periodic stares at Shane. He hadn’t acted this bad since high school about somebody. It was positively stupid. But he did it anyway.

Shane was doing inventory today. His head was bouncing up and down to the jazz that was playing in the store. Ryan swore it was magic- whatever Shane put in his hair- it glowed like glass- or the after picture in a Pantene commercial. Mindlessly Ryan shuffled through his papers- while admiring how softly he moved around. For such a tall guy he was agile- lively. There was an energy about him that made Ryan feel alive by just looking at him.

He had it bad and he hadn’t even really talked to him. And that was before even considering that he could be “S.” He looked at him as if he could find clues through his gestures alone. Every so often, when the soft rainy light came into the shop and glanced upon his back, casting a shadow under his shoulders, he knew that even if he wasn’t “S” he certainly was someone for him.

Shane turned in his direction. Ryan's eyes darted down. He was a busy busy person- clearly! Look at all these papers. There was nothing to see here other than work. Quitely, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and from the stride he knew that they were Shane's. He ducked his head down and began to check off random things on the paper he was “grading.”

“Do you mind?”

Shit. His cheeks felt absolutely crimson. He had seen him looking- God did he know that he had been looking the whole time- was he coming to tell him to bug off. Meekly, with the best impression of an untroubled face, Ryan turned towards him.

“Yes?”

“I just have to ah-” He pointed at the shelf above- where there were some extra copies of Gone Girl and what not stashed away.

“Oh! Of course-” Ryan grabbed his stuff to move.

“Oh!” Shane held out his hand- his fingers nearly brushing Ryan's shoulder, “You don’t have to move- I don’t want to disturb you or anything- I just need like two copies to fill out this display- you know symmetry and all that-”

Ryan did know.

“No problem- I mean go right ahead-”

Shane laughed- shakily- in response. Was Shane actually nervous- or maybe he had just made it awkward. Probably the latter.

Shane took a step in and reached over him. He was close enough for Ryan to feel the slight warmth of his body heat grazing over him- tugging at him to move just a little closer. The light scent of something woodsey and warm caressed his senses. It was just faint enough that he had to literally fight to stop himself from breathing it in a bit deeper. Shane didn’t even need a ladder to reach the top shelf- he just lightly pushed forward onto the balls of his feet. The books fitted easily into his long articulate hand.

“Thanks,” He said, his tone somewhat lower than before. His eyes- twinkling- flicked down for a moment at Ryan.

“Don’t mention it…”

A shadowy smile formed on his face as he walked away- like something had been said- transmitted in the air. Ryan recalled the novel- the subtle and slow burn. It was just a glance. It was just a normal interaction. But it was crazy how quick it was to draw conclusions.

For the rest of the time he spent at the shop, he got a surprising amount of work done. It was almost frightening how easy it would be to fall completely- and in all likelihood probably hit the cold floor- over him. He was getting ahead of himself- and he knew it- so he forced himself to focus.

Soon, after several piles of work had been shifted from one side of the desk to the other, the hour grew late. He didn’t want to overstay, that would surely make it even more obvious- or maybe that was just the paranoia speaking… Either way, he stacked his papers into his bag and made his way to the door- trying his hardest not to instinctively look for him before leaving. His heart fell a little when he wasn’t in direct eyesight. But that was okay- he could see him tomorrow- and the day after- and the day after that. By God he had it stupid bad.

He put his hood up, and pressed his shoulder against the door to leave.

“Hey hold up!” Ryan immediately turned towards his voice. He could feel that his expression was all eyes- he couldn’t help it- Shane had that effect on him.

Shane had a rushed- maybe even shy smile on his face. In his hands were two portable mugs.

“It’s gotten ah-” He stopped as if he was doubting acceptability of his actions. “It’s gotten well pretty nippy outside for ah well May.”

Ryan looked back at him- a bit like a stunned bird that had flown into a window- jeez why couldn’t he be more natural.

“You know they say El Nino or something- temperature drops- hail- I got the weather alert on my phone,” He was stumbling, “You like cider?”

Ryan managed a nod.

“Well, um we, I mean the shop had some in the back and I heated it some up for- for you too.”

He didn't say it but it was clear, he had wanted to say us. Was this even real life?

“I just thought- well you looked so tired- I mean you we were working so hard- so um”

“Cider is lovely,” Ryan quietly murmured.

He handed him the warm mug- their hands brushing.

“Don’t worry about the cup you can just bring it back tomorrow,” He turned green, “Or whenever- I mean whenever- it’s just a cup.”

“Tomorrow is good... I mean- thank-you for thinking of me...”

Shane glowed, relieved. Together, they stood for a beat more at the door silently. Ryan knew he needed to leave now or it was going to get awkward- but by god, he didn’t want to.

“Um, Thanks again-” Ryan whispered, the air becoming very quiet as he leaned into the door, “Have a nice night.”

“You too,” He echoed as if this interaction had made it infinitely better.

Walking home Ryan didn’t even feel the rain. It was frigid- yes- exactly like how Shane had said it would be- but that didn’t matter. He took a sip of the cider- and it was one of the best things he had ever tasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wouldnt mind some cider too tbh


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AWE!! you guys are so sweet- thankyou thankyou for all of the kudos comments and love!
> 
> This chapter features some special guests!!! Hope you like them!!

The next day Ryan was back at the cafe, skimming over the book again and nursing some caffeinated beverage to perk up. He had woken up early- partially due to the fact that he never had really gone to sleep- and had sprung out the door. Thoughts about what could- what should happen had been filling him up- dancing in every quiet space of his mind.

It had been a little thing- the cider- but it was the little things that mattered. In his bag beside him laid the washed cup. He didn’t think he could ever be that nervous about washing a cup- but he had been- rubbing it squeaky clean with care. That cup could be the beginning of something- and beginnings are so fragile.

He must have looked like quite a sleepy wistful puddle of preoccupations- because at this moment Steven paused as he passed his table. Steven was his barista. Well, there were other baristas of course that worked the shop across from Calypso's, but Steven and him were friends. And not just the transient, “oh your usual?” type of coffee shop friends either. Steven was genuine like that- honest.

“You know,” Steven said, putting down the dish tray, “Sometimes too much studying isn’t good for you.”

“Oh-” Ryan jumped, regaining his presence in reality, “I’m not studying,”

Steven frowned. “Then why do you look so beat up?”

He waved the book.

Steven squinted down at him. “Wow? Was the recommendation that good this week?”

Steven knew that he was following “S’s” recommendations. It would have been impossible for him not to, considering how Ryan wouldn’t shut up about it the first couple of months he had begun reading them. But Steven didn’t know how obsessed he was. He already thought Ryan was crazy enough for believing in conspiracy theories and paranormal activity. Adding being a “book stalker” to the list wasn’t something Ryan was willing to admit to as well.

“Yeah,” Ryan said, with an unconvincing smile that he hoped would deter the conversation. “It was a real-” He grabbed at the air, “You know a real gripping story.”

Steven was not convinced, Ryan could tell by how his eyebrows were cresting above the frames of his glasses. His anxiety jumped into his throat as Steven drug up a chair and sat down across from him with a look that told him he intended to get to the bottom of this.

“What’s a matter?” He said simply, as if it could be answered simply.

Ryan thumbed the edge of the book up and down, the pages zipping across his fingertip.

“Do-” He bit his tongue, “Well I mean- do you see a lot of people here? Like working behind the counter?”

“Of course?” He scrunched his shoulders, “I see maybe half the campus- well half the liberal arts people- just in the morning shift alone. We don’t really get the STEM people. The Life Sci building is too far away for them to come down in the mornings. In the evening we might get them though.”

Ryan mentally ran that through the list of possibilities. From Shane’s vibe, he had already pegged him to be an art history major- or maybe even something odd-ball like metaphysics. But when he scanned around last night at various art clubs and societies- yes he had done that like a psycho- he hadn’t found him listed in any one of them. He wasn’t even on Calypso's Instagram as an employee… It was possible that he could be a STEM major- or something else strange- there was a certain chemistry. Ryan frowned. His humor was bad even in his own head.

“Why exactly are you asking?” Steven asked, with an earnest insistence

Ryan felt himself becoming hot- the table becoming suddenly really interesting. “There’s…. There’s this guy.”

“OOO-”

“It’s not like that!” Ryan protested, knowing it was exactly like that.

Steven’s serious expression had completely flipped, turning into a Cheshire grin, satisfied that his senses had been right. Ryan had been messed up about something.

“Where’d you meet him?”

“Calypso's,” Ryan said reluctantly, “He’s working the counter.”

“Calypso's?” He exclaimed, “Don’t you like live there or something? How do you not know him?”

“He’s new? Or well- I think he is new- it might just be I have never seen him before-”

“And you thought I might have? Y’know seen him.”

“Right-”

“Right- Right-” He quickly repeated, rubbing his chin with an intellectual air. “Certainly- Yes- Yes- tell me and I will see if my eyes have come across this certainly lovely man with which you have been so affected by.”

“Should I roll my D20 or are you going to lay off the game night bullshit!”

Steven’s expression remained unchanged- elated- curious- and eager.

Ryan sighed defeated, “He’s- I don’t know- He’s tall-”

“How tall?”

“Like- tall enough to be a telephone poll.”

“Attractive-”

“Yeah- yeah- yeah- well he’s got long brown hair that kind of sticks out everywhere”

Steven nodded. “Brilliant”

Why was he so bad at this! “Oh he has a nice smile- and kind of a stache”

“Oh- a stache man?”

“It’s not a creepy stache-”

“Of course.”

“More like a professorial stache.”

“Oh?” Steven's eyes lit up with implications.

“He’s young-” His hands shot up, “He’s not like a daddy or anything.”

God had he said that out loud. Steven started wheezing- dying actually. Ryan was dying too but not from laughter.

“So-” Steven croaked, trying to recover, “Does this- not daddy- have a name?”

Ryan twisted in his seat, his face still boiling. ”Shane.”

“.....Wait....” Steven’s composure changed, he leaned forward confused and startled,“You don’t mean Shane- Shane? Like Shane Madej?”

Ryan's eyes grew wide.

Steven rubbed his mouth- a grin slowly forming on it- and sighed: “...Christ....” He paused, his thoughts cementing, “You do mean Shane Madej- of course!” He sat back in his chair running his hand through his hair thoughtfully, “...Shane Madej… I mean he’s definitely not bad?”

Not bad? He was perfect.

“What do you know about him?”

“He’s not an employee-” Steven’s eyebrows shot up, “He’s the owner so… I’m mean… he is kind of a daddy-”

“Steven!” Ryan snapped, wanting information and not games. “What on earth do you mean he owns that place?”

“Yeah-” Steven sighed, “He inherited it or something- like a year ago?”

“So you know him?”

“Well- I mean not like personally? He came over when he first got the place and said hello and whatever with the owner here and occasionally he stops by pretty close to closing and gets some cold brew togo- or whatever- he’s pretty nice? He’s kind of shy- quiet- I guess I have never really stopped to fully talk to him?”

Never stopped to talk to him. What a crime. But Ryan's mind didn’t linger on that for long. The pieces were starting to click. A new owner, trying to get involved in the business, starts reading and recommending books. He might have gotten the place a year ago- but it would have taken a while to get adjusted and get on his feet. Perhaps he started reading because he had a crisis… The books in September were starting to make sense now… It was almost the perfect profile...

“So…” Steven said, interrupting his train of thought, “What are you going to do with all this knowledge?”

“I-” He paused. He honestly hadn’t thought he would get this far. He had to lend it to himself, his detective inclinations were excellent. “I actually don’t know. I guess I was just curious...”

“Curious… right,”

He didn’t like Steven’s smirk. It was far too big and happy. It was still early- but Calypso’s was open. Ryan hadn’t intended on making his exit just yet- he didn’t want to look as desperate as he felt- but he sure as hell couldn’t stay here with Steven pulling that face. That would be a slow death by embarrassment and knowing sighs.

“I have got to go now,” Ryan announced, shuffling up from the table.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” He picked up his bag and drink and quickly smoothed himself out.

“Don’t worry- you look great,” Steven reassured, still smirking.

“Who said I was going to see anybody?” Ryan bristled, getting shaky already- this was not a good sign.

“Not me,” Steven's voice trailed as he headed for the door, “But now that you mention it-”

The door to the cafe closed behind him. He didn’t look back- but he knew- he just knew Steven was watching out the window and smiling. The rain had stopped, but it was still foggy and dark. He crossed the overcast street, the cup burning a metaphorical hole in his bag with each step. As he reached the door and swung it open, his eyes brightened, anticipating to see his cheery face peering at him from behind the counter…

But he wasn’t there. Perhaps he was upstairs?

A strange nervous energy filled him. What if he hadn’t meant anything by it- by giving him the drink? Maybe he just wanted to be friendly? Maybe he had taken it the wrong way and he knew it- so now he was ghosting him! He hated getting ghosted. It happened to him more times then he liked to-

His thoughts paused as he hit the upper landing of the stairs. The door to the upstairs office was open. He had never seen into the office before. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be seeing it now. From the crack in the door it looked like a crowded and homey place- it’s old wood paneling shining auburn in the lamplight- and it’s no doubt creaky floor littered with stacks of books and papers.

Shane’s books and papers.

No. No. No. This was getting too personal- too quickly- he needed to escape back down the stairs before it looked like he was being a creep. Cause he certainly wasn’t a creep. Even if he did do it on occasion.

He made an abrupt turn to go back down and find somewhere normal to wait out this chill of anxiety when his foot came in contact with something warm- fuzzy- and catastrophic. He tripped forward- face first- ass second- onto the floor- causing a horrid- simply terrible- noise. The fuzzy shape wormed out from under his feet and pounced upon him.

It was a cat- an orange one- and it was smiling down at him- happy with its work.

“OBI!”

His eyes quickly focused past the cat to see Shane rushing out of the office. He quickly dumped his books and reached down and snatched the cat.

“I’m so sorry,” He tilted the cat up to face him, “Bad kitty- remember what we said about sneaking out of the apartment.”

Apartment? So he lives here?

“Oh- no it’s fine-” Ryan grabbed his bag and the cup that had knocked out- thanking God it wasn’t broken.

“Here,” Shane put the cat down and reached towards him, “Let me get you fixed up.”

He took the cup from Ryan's hand and then softly grasped his forearm, helping him up. While Ryan's feet placed themselves underneath him firmly- his knees were weak. He was standing so close to him- the same scent and feeling brushing over him as before- the soft pine- the warm heat- the utter perfection of it all.

“Oh-” Shane retracted his arm, realizing that he had been holding on to Ryan for a little too long, “You're not hurt or anything?”

“No,” Ryan said, “I think I might have hurt the cat more then the cat hurt me- with my feet all-”

“Hogwash- the cat’s resilient,” Shane waved his hand dismissively, “Nine lives and all of that,”

Yes- of course. An awkward smile crept up on Ryan's face. “Um- well I just wanted to give you back the cup.”

“The cup?” Shane’s eyebrows went up, “Oh- yes the cup!” He shook it back and forth.

“Yes- and I just wanted to say thanks for the cider- y’know cause it really was cold out there- and I did appreciate it-”

“Sure- sure-” He nodded earnestly- a hint of nervousness in his voice, “It was- well it was- y’know- it was-”

“It was nice.”

Shane stopped mid ramble- a hint of pink dashing across his face. Had he- had he just made him blush? Oh god- Oh jeeze-

“Um-” Shane turned back toward his office, “Do you want to step in for a bit?”

Ryan's lips parted.

“It’s the least I can do- it’s quiet up there- you know you can work on all that- well- work you need to do- I have some cookies? You like cookies?”

He couldn’t even look Ryan in the eyes as he said it. And Ryan thought he was the jittery one.

“Cookies are great.”

Cookies were fucking awesome.

He laughed haltingly, pushing back a shock of his hair, as if he had never imagined this scenario happening today. He definitely wasn’t alone in that.

“Well- ah after you!” Shane made a swirly gesture with his hand, trying to regain his usual smooth confidence.

Ryan put his hand to his lips- pressing them against his smile- and stepped into his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shane talking in his Taurus love language of snacks is too pure <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall are literally the greatest <3333 thanks for being so sweet!!
> 
> This chapter is a little more serious (i couldn't help it) but hopefully it still passes the vibe check!

As the door parted back, the full office came into view. It was a skinny and wonky sort of room that was made up of the leftover bits of space that had formed under the slant of the roof. The flat wall, adjacent to the interior of the shop, was lined with bookcases of older- most likely personal books- and groupings of orders for various customers. There was a particularly large stack that was tied together with a sticky note that said: “For Rattan.” She was the head of the creative lit program- he guessed it was natural she did so much business here. On the other wall, the slanted one, there was a row of outset dormers that looked out into the side street below. A couple of struggling house plants rested on their wooden sills, creeping towards the faint northern light. At the back of the room there was a desk nestled in its narrow trapezoidal cove. Next to it rested a worn chair, similar to the ones downstairs, but definitely an older and more retired incarnation.

“Oh- um!” Shane darted in around him, the cat following on his heels, “I’m sorry for the-” He grabbed several handfuls of various stuff off the floor, “For the mess- I don’t- I mean this is just kind of where everything goes until it finds a place.”

A place. It sounded so nice when he said it.

In a hasty shove, he plowed the remaining literary undergrowth to the side and then smiled with an anxious sense of accomplishment- as if something had been saved from ruin. Ryan stood a bit unsure of where to go- even though he suspected the chair- looking back at Shane in awe. Seeing him in the bookstore was one thing, but seeing him in his hideaway was quite another. The incandescent light of a hazy floor lamp scattered warm beams onto Shane's face with a quiet comfort.

“You ah,” Ryan's mouth opened before the thought formed, “You have a nice place up here,”

His eyebrows shot up, “I?” Oh shit- he hadn’t explicitly told him that he was the owner yet- fuck-fuck-fu-

“Yes, I supposed I do- it’s better than most,” He gazed around with a mix of skepticism and gratitude, unsure if Ryan was just being nice, “Like- I ah said- you know it’s an apartment-”

Oh, yes, Shane had said that. Thank-god.

“So there is more to it than just this-” He took a few swift steps back into the room and reached up- his long arm stretching to the ceiling. He knocked the seemingly flush wood paneling. “Attic too- or rather third floor- or even loft as they call it I guess on the open market. Under the roof- refurbished vibes- pleasant”

Shane smoothed his hair back. The air was restless, laced with things yet to be said.

“I hope it has enough headroom,” Ryan said, regretting the oddness in his voice. “You know- cause- you’re so tall.”

His face grew pink again as if to say: “you noticed?” - of course, Ryan had noticed.

“Oh! yeah- plenty actually- I only hit my head well- a few- an acceptable amount of times” He rocked back and forth on his heels, “Chair?” He finally remembered.

“Thanks-” Ryan grinned, padding his way across the rug. Trying to be casual, Ryan sank down into the chair, but as he did the thing threatened to eat him whole. Its springs had sprung their last and they gave way under him like quicksand. Feeling even smaller than normal, peering around or rather over the arms of the chair, he watched Shane as he maneuvered around in search of cookies.

‘Ah!” He rattled the tin with glee, his smiling eyes becoming crescents, “Shortbread or ginger?”

“Both?”

“After my own heart...” He hummed, absently taking off the lid and ferrying over the little wax paper cups that contained the cookies. He set them on the edge of the desk and folded down onto the little swivel office chair that was a bit too small for him. Ryan took a cookie- eager to be busy with something. Shane readily followed suit- snatching a gingersnap and munching. There was a pause as the spicy ginger flavor dissolved on Ryan's tongue.

“These are delicious,”

“Really?” Shane replied, as if there had been a doubt regarding their quality, “I get them at Yate’s- you know the grocery store- the local place on the corner of college station and hickory.”

“I get the bagels there-”

“Which kind?”

“Cinnamon sugar,”

“Sweet tooth?” He hummed, a subtle delight in his voice, as if he was noting this.

“I guess,” Ryan said between bites, “Y’know now that you mention it,”

He looked pleased that he had, “I’m more of a spice guy myself-”

“Everything?”

“Worse- onion-” He leaned a bit back, relaxing into the conversation, “I used to eat them all the time before I had to do customer service- now- well just imagine me walking around smelling like a fucking funion-”

His color changed. He abruptly took a bite of the cookie- preventing himself from “relaxing” any further.

“Shit- I don’t think I could give up one of my favorite foods for that.” Ryan exclaimed, to Shane's instant relief. See, he swore too, quite a lot actually.

“It seems like they give you a lot to do,” He pointed to Ryan's stuffed bag, pleased that he had found a way to push the conversation forward.

“It’s okay- I'm a tough guy- I can handle the work and it's interesting cause- well it’s a film analysis class really- so I get to read about all these perspectives on these different works- and sometimes get to see things through new eyes- rewatch things with a new perspective. It’s special- to hear people's thoughts like that- see how they perceive things...” His eyes trailed down, as his thoughts drifted to the books. “See how their world interacts with yours…”

“That’s beautiful,” Shane said softly, almost sounding as if he meant to say that Ryan was beautiful.

A dazed look- that he knew- god how he knew- that Shane could see crossed his face. Shane coughed, a wheezy shy sound.

“I-” Shane began, his voice feeling faint on his lips, “I used to review stuff too,”

The words floated by Ryan’s ears, taking a while to be absorbed and grasped. But when they were his heart rate rose sharply.

“Really?” He caught his enthusiasm in his throat and forced a swallow, “What did you review?”

“Manuscripts mostly-” Shane replied, “Editing was my first life- this is my second.” He gestured around.

“Do you still edit things?”

“Occasionally,” He paused, “To be honest even though I enjoy it I’m not the best at it.”

“I find that hard to believe,”

He adjusted his arms meekly, “I’m more of a writer- I guess-” He seemed unsure if he was allowed to say it, “It always kind of creeps through- my- I guess what you call my take on things- and editors should try to be as impartial and as true to the original work as possible.” He grabbed another cookie and took a thoughtful bite, “It’s a bit like being an art conservationist and instead of bringing the painting to life you compulsively change what direction the eyes are looking- or make the sky darker- or something like that- I mean yeah the painting might be better now to you- but that’s because now it’s your painting- you know- and not theirs- and that’s not fair to either one of you.”

The frustration and dismay were evident.

“What- what do you write?” Ryan asked encouragingly.

Shane shrugged, “Nothing that is published… nothing of note...”

He was acting casual about it but it was apparent that this was a sensitive topic- it bled from every angle of his face- bitterly. Had Ryan overstepped his bounds? The last thing he had wanted was for this to turn sour now. He opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could Shane’s phone rang.

“Hello Calypso's Books,” Shane instantly turned back into the obliging businessman- all traces of the previous minute completely abolished.

“Yes...yes…” Shane looked at his watch.

Ryan’s gaze fell to the floor, watching as the orange cat cleaned itself on the rug. More words were spoken on the phone. Ryan's gaze fell even farther- trailing into his lap. Had he screwed this up before it had even begun? It was just for cookies and small talk. This was their first real conversation. Even if it felt like something more- they didn’t even know each other- what right did he have to be intruding… but god how he wanted to know… know how Shane saw things and how he spoke on a page…

The phone call ended.

“I have to go to the post office,” Shane sighed, “A couple of rare editions finally came in for a client,”

He turned back to Ryan, and his expression shifted. It was clear that Shane was reading him and that there was nothing he could do to hide it- the regret he was currently feeling.

“Hey, ah-” He put his hand on Ryan’s arm tenderly, his fingers gently resting on the sleeve of his shirt.

“I’m sorry about-” He bit his lip, ”I would like to do this again.”

Ryan made a little noise with his breath.

“I mean- like somewhere else- perhaps somewhere where the only food isn’t stale cookies-”

“They weren’t stale-”

“They could have been better.” He protested, as if to say Ryan deserved better.

Was that what this had been about? Did Shane honestly not think he wasn’t a total catch- cause he was. Shane’s touch became more desperate, almost a caress. Ryan could feel himself melt inside, his emotions becoming fuzzy and shaky. It was a feeling he never wanted to give up.

“Saturday,” he blurted, “There’s a Farmer's Market- on the square. There’s going to be wine tastings I think- and some local bands I think- I mean I never heard of them but how bad could they be- we could get bagels and-”

“I’ll be there,” Shane interjected.

Neither one of them said it was a date- but as Shane’s arm was still resting on his- Ryan knew that it was exactly that.

“My number-” Shane jumped, finally breaking contact to Ryan’s begrudging dismay. Shane shuffled through some stuff on the desk and grabbed a business card and pressed it into Ryan’s hand, “I’m sorry that I have to go now.”

“It’s okay- I really couldn’t stay that long anyway I need to go log some hours at the tutoring lab and-”

“I didn’t keep you did I?”

“NO-” Ryan said with a little too much passion, “I just…” His eyes fell again, “I wanted to… I wanted to stay with you...”

The honesty with which that sentence had been spoken was frankly frightening. It was a charged sentenced. It was filled with implications.

Ryan tentatively looked up. Shane’s expression was calm and immersed and for the first moment, they were just people together- no chatter- no pretenses. A ripple of understanding spread out across the air. The sounds of connections that were busy- busy- and then at once grown teemed around them- stitching them together as a bed of grass does the earth. 

“Let me walk you out,” Shane said.

And then he did, in a burning- delicate sort of silence- down to the street outside. There was a halting anxiousness- neither one wanted to leave- but they had agreed to it already. They were to part ways for now. Someone took the first step away, and there was an awkward and reluctant wave, and then they finally went in their separate directions.

As much as it pained him Ryan turned away, part of him was glad cause he could finally let out all of the emotions he had been feeling- the shakiness- the apprehension- the absolute glee-

Saturday- Saturday- Saturday- that was all he could think about and all he knew would think about for the rest of the week. He would have to get a haircut- maybe a new shirt-

“You know-” Shane called from down the street, “I- It sounds silly but…” He paused, a half-anxious grin forming on his face, “I don’t even know your name,”

Ryan sharply inhaled, “Oh my God- my name’s Ryan- Ryan Bergara!”

He beamed, “Shane- the rest is on my card- See you soon!”

“For sure!”

Ryan paused for a moment on the street. God- Shane looked so handsome in the newly breaking midday light- he could have died about it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for being literally the best <3 it means so much!!
> 
> More layers to the onion that is Shane peel back :)

The afternoon had sped by. The feeling of jittery excitement had condensed into a much more heavy cloud of sentiments that were now hanging around him. Ryan was preoccupied with the events of that morning. The whole time while wandering between classes and office hours and tutoring he was reliving every instant in his mind.

“After my own heart...”

It hadn’t stuck out to him at the moment, as he had been too busy staring like a wide-eyed child from that literal swamp of a chair. But now…

He twisted the drawstrings of his jacket and considered- considered the idea that it might have been more than just a passing comment and that in it contained the seed of something greater- an observation- more than a phrase.

The ground passed under him steadily as he walked towards his dorm, the regular pattern of the brick pavers becoming a blur of fine lines running by his feet. And his head began to feel funny. An ocean of its own creation started to slosh up there- unformed ideas and feelings slowly evolving from the deep caverns of his mind. Things he hadn’t felt in years for someone.

At first, well at first he had been after his stupidly glorious windswept ways and his infectious smile, but there was a current now that was running through the spaces in his ribs- sparking in between his fingertips. Even the quiet breeze that pushed along the street contained a hint of music- a light melody still unformed- but swelling as it moved.

He slid his card at the door and went down the graduate hall, waving to the RA as he rounded around the main desk. The stairwell that normally was bounded up, instead was taken slowly. His head was feeling funnier by the moment. He pushed through the door and was pleased to find that his roommate wasn’t there to say something that would have brought him out of the mood he was currently existing in. He walked through the shared single cabinet of a kitchen they had to his room, and collapsed upon the bed.

From the bed he watched the orange afternoon light stream through the half-shut blinds. His hand was on his arm, where he had touched him. He wished Shane was here now- touching him.

Would he hold me like this? He wondered, crossing his arms over themselves. Or like this? He fitted his hands together. Shane's hands were so much bigger than his- and Shane's limbs so much longer- how would it be…

He grimaced, realizing the absolute stupidity of what he was doing. He was lucky that he had gotten this far. How many times had things fallen through- just because Shane was different and how he felt was well- different- didn’t mean it would be any different. Life was sad like that.

He pulled out the card that Shane had given him, and ran his finger over his name- the slight bevel of the words catching against the ridges of his fingertips. A soft- a horribly soft feeling poured over him, slipping its way into his lungs, and he sighed longingly.

He pulled out his phone and added his number. He stared at the screen. This was when he was supposed to send something. 

He can’t text you if you can text him. 

The shaky sensation was back, he could feel it rising in his knees.

“Hello, this is Ryan!”

He stared at it for a minute as it sat- ready to be sent. Never had everything about a sentence had sounded so unappealing.

“Heyy- this Ryan- from the bookstore :)”

What was he thinking? Also, why was the delete button so close to the send button. What asshole put it there?

“Howdy th-”

No. No. No. For a moment the rash decision to look up how to say your own name over text without seeming like a total loser crossed his mind. Clearly he need help with introductions… He could literally punch himself- why was he so awkward and cursed with the mind and social skills of a goldfish.

“Hey! This is Ryan :)”

He clicked send, and closed his eyes painfully. Now it was the waiting game. He could feel himself sweat. With busy nervous energy, he went over to the closet and began pulling it apart. As he suspected, he had no taste at all. It was terrible.

Basketball jerseys? Why did he have to be that guy? Why couldn’t he be the flanel guy? Or the leather jacket guy? Or even the sweater guy? Graphic tees- to go out with hi-

The phone buzzed. He pounced upon the phone.

“Hi! It w-”

He shoved his face in the pillow kicking his legs, making a high pitch screech. Shoving the pillow around his face he brought up his phone again.

“Hi! It was so nice seeing you today :)”

Quickly, his fingers flew across the screen.

“It was nice seeing you too,”

He paused- the conversation could easily die then- christ- what to say- what to say- cookies were nice- no- stupid- stupid- day? How was your day? He typed that swiftly.

“My day was great! The books I went to pick up actually were not as damaged as they could have been- they were reclaimed from a flooded building in New Orleans.”

He moved to type something back about how interesting that was or something- but the little bubble appeared on his side.

“How was your day?”

His day- a million words for “fucking unreal” flew through him.

“Great! Everything kind of flew by in a good sort of way.”

There- he was being honest enough- no need to tell him why it flew by- no need to tell him that he was missing him even though they had just met- or that he possibly might be totally falling into- well something-

“Brb- need to take something out of the oven!”

He bakes? His eyes stalled on the screen. He bakes.

A few moments passed- suddenly several buzzes came in. Pictures of chocolate bundt cakes flooded his phone. They were perfect. He was perfect- just- why- he chucked the phone at the wall just to desperately lunge over and grab it to look at the pictures again.

“I got the recipe from this Vegan site- they actually turned out okay.”

Okay? They looked professional- and, of course, they were so casually Vegan as well. He tumbled out of the bed and went out to the three by three fridge. Nothing but two beers and a crusty pan of some mystery food that he didn’t make. Fantastic. He rummaged through the cabinet. Protein powder, cereal, ramen, nothing- nothing he could use to make anything presentable. He could make stuff too. He had skills.

The phone buzzed again.

“Are you having dinner too?”

No. In fact, he hadn’t even thought about eating. But now he was starving. Not wanting to be empty-handed he tapped photos and hastily scrolled through till he found something from back when he was trying “meal planning.” Asian salad with tuna- he couldn’t afford salmon. It looked passable- even if it was from six months ago. Thanking the stars he was too lazy to ever delete anything he sent the photo.

“Oh- I’m just having a salad.”

Lying already. What a champ- an absolute winner.

“Looks delicious!”

“Thanks it's just something I threw together,”

His brow furrowed with guilt, but he was happy that Shane was impressed. He really needed to get his act together if he wanted a real shot with him. Exactly what was it that Shane didn’t do. He would have to look Shane up now that he had his last name. Actually, why wait. He grabbed his laptop and sat down on the bed again.

S-H-A-N-E M-A-D

The autofill came up. He immediately clicked it. A deluge of results flooded in.

“Maybe we could talk food and stuff we when see each other next- I need some new dishes,”

Dishes- yes- yes- but look at all of this? He began scrolling. Shane had made it out like he was just some small-time editor- the man had worked for Columbia Press and the Chicago Review. There were articles about him and articles by him. Why had he said that he had nothing published? He had scores of things published.

Ryan turned to his phone.

“Yeah! Totally it would be fun to talk to another foodie.”

Foodie? Pretentious- regrettable- but he had already sent it. He went back to the screen and clicked a profile on him- “New Minds in Criticism” it said. The article was from 2 years ago. What had happened? He read on. It was nothing but praise. He clicked the next profile- the same story- they loved him.

He decided to move on from the profiles to one of his articles: “In Praise of the Cynic: A Dissection of Manipulative Optimism in Modern Media.” As the title suggested, it was grim and written entirely in the most eggheady language imaginable. It tore down everything from the news to children's books with a hair-raising level of intellectual malice. The words “insufferable,” “vapid,” and “driveling” appeared more than once. The points were cutting and clear- he hated everything and was not going to stop until you hated it too- he was going to peel back the curtain and tell you that nothing meant anything and that the media was an opiate for the pain of the world.

It was unreal- and almost so convincing that Ryan began to feel guilty for that time he had spent all weekend bingeing “Mysteries of the Unknown.” How could someone who makes chocolate bundt cakes write like that- think that?

He scanned the articles. They were of the same vein: full-throttled hot takes usually against something and for well- “nothing.” Was this the “refreshing new voice” that those profiles praised? Was this really what his whole career was built on? Was this powerful enough to project him into minor literary success while he was still- Ryan looked it up- still in his 20’s?

“:) I can save some cakes for you if you want some- I was planning to make them anyway- but since you said you like sweet things I thought I could pack some up for you?”

His eyes rested on the words. Shane would probably throw up if he saw his short film projects. He wasn't a go-lucky-guy- in fact he was a self-described pessimist- but he wasn’t an Anton Ego for crying out loud. Was he really like that? Was he still like that?

He read the text again.

“I would love some- thank you for thinking of me- I can't wait to taste them!”

People change. Even if he hadn’t- Shane had given him cider- Shane had invited him into his office- Shane right now- currently- was boxing up cakes for him. If anything it should be a compliment that someone who was that critical, and not to mention successful, decided to do anything with him. He was just a film school graduate student, with negative money to his name and truly- truly- nothing in the public eye.

“Alrightie :D,”

He read the message and laid back in the bed- his feet dangling off the side. Why did Shane leave that behind to run a bookstore?

He knew he would read all of Shane's stuff- searching for the answers- his brain worked like that- tireless and curious. It seemed the more he knew about him- the more he wanted to know. He went back out to the kitchenette and took out the coffee pot- it was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hrrmmmm?? Is he different??? What on earth happened :))))))))))) ?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy!! sorry it took me a little longer with this update- I was attending to my other WIP fics!! But it's 3 AM I'm a mushy mess and these idiots are a big part of that. 
> 
> Thanks so much for the feedback and support <<<33333333

Buzz-buzz.

Ryan jerked awake- the phone vibrating on the pillow next to his head. Ungluing his face from the mattress his bones made an awful crack. He knew he should have gotten that foam mattress topper when he had seen it for sale- but no- he had gone for the season pass to six-flags instead. Great decision. A responsible choice.

Speaking of responsible choices, that pot of coffee last night was a mistake. It must have been four- maybe five- when he finally passed out. His face had that vague hot prickling feeling- like tv static. His eyebrow twitched. Nasty business.

He rummaged for his glasses. After crankily excavating the nearby bedding he found them- they had slid to the back of his head. The room came into focus- it was 9:00 am by the color and angle of the sun.

Something buzzed again. Ah, yes, the phone.

He fished it from the pillows and brought it up to his face. The screen was bright.

“Top of the Morning’ to you!”

Shane. He twisted into the comforter- reveling in his good fortune. He had texted him first- and a good morning text no less! That was one of the sappiest things in the book. He read it again from under the covers.

Quirky? Yes- it was quite quirky. He wondered if Shane was the type that liked microbrewery beer.

The thought caught in his brain- stopping before he had even fully realized it. It was a stupid assumption to make and he knew it. If anything had been made clear last night it was that Shane hated everything. It was official. Ryan had read enough last night to know that. He had even stumbled upon an old blog that Shane used to moderate on which he had described life as a chasm that one simply falls through. Any attempt to reach out or construct a meaningful life was pointless in light of the abrupt stop waiting at the bottom. It was equivalent to playing games on a railway track. It was moronic.

“Top of the Morning’ to you!”

It flashed again on the screen- waiting to be opened. His hands hovered on it for a while. The phrase “love is a neurochemical con-job” popped into his mind. Was that how Shane saw this? Ryan twisted into the comforter again. The most recent article Ryan had found had been dated 16 months ago… 16 months and Shane hadn’t written anything new- hadn’t reviewed anything- that was something… definitely something.

The negativity of Shane's writing had been claustrophobic. It had made Ryan's ribs feel tight around his lungs. It had hurt- even inhabiting that headspace for an evening. How must Shane have felt being the one to write it- to live it- and to perhaps still be living it? Ryan's expression tinged with concern.

He flicked the message open and began typing.

“Good morning to you too :)”

Shane’s text bubble immediately popped up.

“What’s up?”

Good question. He sat up in the bed and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on his closet door. Apparently looking like the walking dead was what was up.

“Breakfast! Hbu?”

Ryan responded. Another lie. But what was he going to say? Shower? What was he 15?

He dragged himself over to the closet that the University called an “on suite” and got to scrubbing. His soap didn’t smell as good as whatever Shane used. Why hadn’t he considered that when he bought it- oh yeah- cause he hadn't met him yet- idiot- add better soap to the list of things to buy before Saturday. The phone buzzed on the sink. Reflexively, he opened his eyes at the sound and a bead of angry shampoo laced water hit his right eye. Banging his hand around outside of the shower, he yanked the towel off the hook and hastily wiped his face. 

The phone went off several more times and Ryan's stomach became fluttery. Double- no triple texting?

He pushed his head under the water once more. Good enough. He eagerly got out of the shower- dripping all over the floor- to get to the phone. Fluffing the towel over his head, he read the messages.

“Oh I’m just doing some inventory and such- I’ll probably grab breakfast later… The first shift employees already came in for the day so that’s good… I was wondering when you were planning to swing by? For the cakes? My day is pretty free- but I do need to pick up something from the warehouse and I didn’t want to be mia and miss you!”

Ryan's cheeks- already flushed from the hot water- grew redder. He didn’t want to miss him. Holy Shit.

Schedule- Schedule- What day was it? Wednesday. Right. Right. That meant lecture hall from 10:00 - 11:00 and then Jenkin’s class from 11:15 - 12:30. Twenty minutes for lunch. Editing lab from 1:00-2:00. Fifteen minutes for mid-afternoon exhaustion. Study group from 2:30 - 4:00. After which he should really change…

“I can be there around 5?”

The response was again immediate. “Sounds swell!”

Swell? Who says swell? No matter- it was adorable- and he loved it. He glanced at the time. It was already 9:25. He would have to run to make it to class on time. So he did- throwing on something and grabbing his stuff.

Lecture was boring. Jenkin was a drag. Lunch? Who knows- it was hastily gobbled down. And editing? Well that couldn’t have been slower- and the same went for Study Group. Some guy with flashcards wouldn’t shut up about how terrible prospects looked going into finals- the rest just reluctantly agreed with him- they were fucked- but since was that anything new?

He bolted out of there the second it was done and nearly jogged to his dorm. He got together the outfit that he had been brainstorming the whole day: dark green button-up, his better jeans cuffed, a casual but leather shoe, and his nicer watch- which he didn’t usually wear but for Shane, of course, he’d wear it. His hair didn’t want to behave- but it wasn’t like it was going to be nicer then Shane’s anyway- it would just have to do.

He ducked out of the back hall just in time to catch the campus shuttle. Usually, he walked but he didn’t want to risk something coming out of place. As it was now- he was sure he had probably missed something. He opened his phone and checked himself in the front camera.

Mistake. Nope. Don’t need to see that.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to breathe, focusing on the rhythmic sway of the shuttle as it crossed the patchy roads of the campus. Why was he so nervous- Shane had invited him- Shane had wanted him to come… His eyes tracked the buildings going by. Maybe that was just it. He was used to being overlooked. It was strange to be the focus of anyone's attention- especially someone like Shane…

***Art Center and Sycamore***

The doors opened and he bounded out. His footing was a little shaky as he crossed the road- but he was moving quickly so it was fine- any little bit closer was fine. He skipped up the curb and pushed through the door into the shop.

It was busy- lively with people and soft music. Does he pick the music in the shop? He would have to ask.

Ryan wove through the bookcases and went up the spiral staircase to the second floor. The door to the office was closed this time. He would have to knock. He didn’t dislike knocking but- you know- how loud is too loud? He forced a deep breath and tapped on the door.

“It’s open!” Shane’s voice sounded from somewhere both behind and above.

Ryan nudged through the door. The office was clean- sparkling even- even the plants looked like they had been watered. God- how long had that taken- was he really worth all this fuss? A noise from overhead caused him to look up- it was then that he noticed that the panel that Shane had tapped last time was open and from it was extending a small ladder. Yes- the loft. He tentatively approached, peering upwards. Footsteps quickly approached and Shane’s cheerful face popped into view.

“Come on up!”

Ryan looked at the ladder skeptically, “Are you sure- I don’t wanna intrude or-”

“Nonsense!” Shane said, much more confident today- assured. “Just watch your step on the third rung- it ah- it ah likes to wiggle.”

Ryan shook his head and snickered- the way that Shane had said wiggle was too much.

“I’m just warning ya!” Shane playfully protested- laughter creeping into his voice as well, “Don’t want to clean you up from the floor.”

“You mean again?” Ryan wheezed, climbing up.

Shane laughed- fully this time. This was going well- better- actually then expected. Shane bent down and took his hand as he reached the top, and pulled him up onto the upper floor, Shane’s steady hand just ghosting over the small of his back as he came to stand. That shadow of a touch was enough to make Ryan’s heart skip. God was he in for it if something really happened. He couldn’t even imagine.

Also- Shane- Shane on a regular day was plenty- but this Shane? Downright unfair. He was in this lovely structured grey sweater with a soft blue button-up shirt underneath it, and around his neck was a small knotted green handkerchief- which somehow he was pulling off. And his hair? His hair was pushed back into this fluffy- absolutely touchable- wave that flicked up around his ears. It was absurd- rude even- to look like this.

Shane took a few steps back into the room, heading towards the open kitchen. “I guess I kind of oversold the place,” He gestured around reluctantly.

Oh yes the place- Ryan peeled his eyes away from Shane and scanned around the room. It wasn’t large by any means but it was cozy. The roof above allowed for an odd-shaped but lofty ceiling with beams and hanging lights. The lights projected down onto the rustic half-painted half-stained wooden floor. On one side of the room was the living room, made up of several expensive looking but vintage chairs and a deep green leather sofa. There was a shag rug underneath it all separating it from the rest of the space. On the other side, tucked a bit away from the rest of the flat was the bedroom. He didn’t look at it long. Just a glance- like he didn’t notice the fucking bed- but what he saw of it was nice. White downy comforter- low palette bed- bohemian. In the middle of the place, right in front of them, was the kitchen, constructed of canary yellow cabinets and nicer looking appliances- possibly even new appliances. At the free standing butcher block island, there were several low back barstools with rich copper legs.

Funky. Coordinated. Tasteful.

“I think you more- ah- undersold- actually..” Ryan said, still looking around, more and more details popping out- like the framed butterflies and the record player.

Shane laughed as if he didn’t, but wanted desperately, to believe him.

“So- ah-” Shane said, shifting back on his heels, becoming a bit shy again, “Your cakes?”

“Oh- yeah-” Ryan replied, just barely trying to absorb all of this. “Yeah that’s- that’s what I’m here… for... ” He bit his tongue, as he followed behind Shane, who was moving around the island and to the fridge in pursuit of the delicacies in question.

Gingerly, Ryan let himself rest against the counter, somewhat unsure of how comfortable was too comfortable in this situation, while Shane rummaged through the fridge. His gaze roamed around some more while he waited.

Spice rack- nice. Some cookbooks- cultured. Dinner? His eyes widened. On the stovetop there was not one- but two- pieces of what looked like rosemary salmon in a skillet.

Shane’s head re-emerged out of the fridge. Ryan quickly averted his gaze to- errr- the backsplash?

“Oh-” Shane’s voice was high, “I don’t know if you- ah- had ah dinner yet or anything.”

Ryan redirected his attention back to Shane- who was holding a little white box and growing progressively red around his cheeks.

“Dinner?” Ryan said, his mind startlingly empty.

“Well when you said that you would be by at five I thought that maybe you- you might not have eaten- and like this is when I usually get something to eat- at five- and I thought that if you were by for one thing you could be by for two things- that is ah- cakes and dinner- and I know we had said Saturday-” He compulsively pushed his hair back, “But oh um- if you have eaten already it’s okay I didn’t go out of my way or anything…. It’s just like salmon and that can go-” He cleared his throat, “- that can go on something tomorrow....”

Ryan was genuinely speechless. No one he had ever been interested in had done something like that for him before- just make dinner unprompted- he had always been the one to float things- to make things work- never.... he froze to the spot like a fucking statue.

“It’s… ah too much…” Shane folded, taking the silence like a punch to the gut, “I’m sorry- we barely know each other-” His breath creaked painfully, his tone crushed, “- I shouldn’t have thought to ah- Uh here-” He slid the box over on the counter, “I’ll- I’ll get you a reusable bag- to carry it in-” He rustled around in an under cabinet until he found one, “You don’t have to worry about bringing it back it’s nothi-”

Ryan’s hand shot out urgently grabbing Shane by the wrist- stopping him from bagging up the cakes- and pulling him suddenly to within inches of his own face.

“I-” Ryan's voice failed. Their eyes locked. It went silent. There were murmurs of an apology- but they fell quiet and wordless in his mouth. Shane looked as if he had been set on fire- his gaze- his expression shaken and feverish. Like wheat reeved, he swayed ever so slightly- adrift in some immaterial breeze- only to be anchored to the ground by Ryan's touch. 

Seconds ticked by and they held fast, unable- no- not daring to stir.

“I-” Ryan finally tried again, but after who knows how long, “I haven’t eaten,”

"That’s good...” Shane murmured, the push and pull of his words glancing across Ryan's forehead, “I mean dinner with you is good...”

Ryan nodded- dazed- his hand gently releasing Shane’s slender wrist. He hadn’t meant to do that. Honestly. It had just jumped out of him- magnetic, compulsive, and burning. The feeling still was running up his arm- trailing through his shoulder- meeting him squarely in the chest. He didn’t know that he had that in him- he had trouble sometimes even looking Shane in the eye- and then he just grabs him?

He could have done more to him as well. It had been as thin as wire- the line between what had happened- and what could have happened.

“I’ll get us some plates-” Shane said, his voice different, “Just sit down- I’ll get everything.”

Ryan made a noise- he thought it was going to be a word- like yes- but he was too busy looking at Shane to follow up on that idea. He sat down- as instructed- and considered how long it would take for them to eat dinner- and then how long it would take for them to say goodnight...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodnight???? ooooh????? :)))


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy Oh boy Oh boy- this chapter was a lot >_> I meant to post it yesterday but it got out of hand so here I am? with a chapter twice the size that it was originally intended to be!!!
> 
> Anyways!! You guys are so lovely- so I hope you enjoy it :DDDD thanks so much for reading <333

Shane was quick about getting the dinner together, making little humming noises under his breath.

“.....fish…..” He took out a long spatula and ferried it to the plate, “....butter…. “ He paused, “You like butter- or are you a lemon guy- or do you like sauce?”

“Sauce?” Ryan shrugged, unsure of what guy he was, but truly invested in the process before him.

Shane nodded, “Say no more,” He ladled some of the rosemary and wine- or at least Ryan thought it was wine- sauce onto the fish. He then ducked down to the oven and pulled out a pan of mushroom risotto. The rich scent of herbs and cream flooded the room- simply heavenly. Taking a large wooden spoon, Shane scooped out several simply Godly looking portions onto the plates and garnished them with steamed Broccoli and breadcrumbs.

An irresponsible amount of “kiss the chef” jokes bounced around in Ryan’s mouth. Keep it together. Be an adult. Fuck- Shane’s hand though- so busy and precise… He forced a swallow.

“Where on earth did you learn to cook like that?” Ryan asked, craning his neck to get a better view- of the food naturally, “Is this where you tell me that you studied at The Cordon Bleu?” The light hearted chuckle came out forcefully. Nice one. Funny.

Shane seemed to like it though, smiling crookedly, “I would save your praise,” He threw the towel over his shoulder, “You haven’t tasted it yet,”

“Taste?” Ryan chuckled, “The smell alone- like honestly- Christ- I mean like I’m fuc-” He cut it short with a wheeze.

Now he knew how Shane felt when he had said “too much.” Too fucking much indeed.

Shane, who had somewhat relaxed from the previous wrist grabbing incident, was red again and laughing in a sputtery way about it being “nothing” and “just sort of something” he had been trying out.

“I’m-” Shane caught his breath. He put the plates down on the island. “I’m still getting my bearings- with cooking- I didn’t always cook- it's a new thing for me actually.” He fiddled with the tassels on the towel.

“You mean to say you're new at this?” Ryan pointed at the masterpiece before him.

“Well,” Shane sighed slowly, regaining his proverbial footing, “It’s only really been around six or so months? You know I thought heck, if I was changing up everything else why not how I ate too. You know it felt natural I guess.” He looked meditatively into the drawer he was opening and selected some silverware.

Ryan’s expression lit up for a moment, “Everything else?”

“Oh you know,” Shane replied, looking everywhere else but back at him, “New place- New job- New locale… Water or tea?”

“Huh?” Ryan blinked, “Oh tea,”

“Coming right up-” Shane took the glasses and went to fill them from a pitcher in the fridge.

Shane still wasn’t looking at him, in fact, it seemed as though he was making a concerted effort to keep his back towards him. Ryan looked down at the meal. His hunger wasn’t the only thing eating him alive.

“Where were you before here?” He asked, hoping it sounded casual instead of prying.

“Chicago,” Shane responded as if there was nothing else to the story- as if he continued he would be washed up on a rocky shore about to say more than he had bargained for.

“You know I guess having a bookshop below you leads you to pick up stuff.” Shane continued smoothly, as if picking up a previous thought, “Like this whole cooking thing didn’t start until I was cleaning up the ‘home’ section- what little there is of it here,” He slid into the seat next to Ryan, “I mean college folks really aren’t really out here trying to jazz up their ‘dwelling space’ or whatever other rubbish those authors use to describe a house...”

Shane took a bite of the risotto. Ryan took one too and his eyes slammed shut in sheer ecstasy- the cream- the mushrooms- the slight white wine flavor- It was so good he could have gone on bended knee right there- right on the kitchen floor.

“Anyways-” Shane continued, apparently not noticing how absolutely faded Ryan was from just the first bite, “I was cleaning it up and I saw this stack of cookbooks and I was just like what the hell- you know- why not?” Shane took another distracted bite, “I mean what could be the worst that could happen- I could fail at it- you know absolutely suck- but why was I going to let that stand between me and y’know discovering something new…” He gestured around with his fork, “I mean once you take the first step things kind of just come along- I guess- or that is at least what I told myself then...”

Ryan was still recovering. Words were coming by him. He knew that they meant something. There was a tone that suggested a subtext. The first step. What was that? He tapped his fingers on his fork.

“I bet it was a big change- coming here- not everyone can do that.” Yes, ask about what he is clearly sensitive about. Good job.

Shane moved the salmon around, “It was nothing- I just picked up and came here… spur of the moment kind of thing,” He stopped, “I’m not flaky by nature or anything. I actually like things to stay the same. But this came as a surprise- and surprises can allow for funny things to happen. They are in their nature against the flow,” He made a river like motion with his hand, “Like a rock causing rapids- this being the rapids.”

Ryan sat quietly for a moment. Shane sounded nothing like how he did in his writings. The same cadence was there- but the essence was different.

“Did you… did you not know that you were-”

“No,” Shane said before taking a bite. He maneuvered his fork around in the air, “I sort of didn’t know about this place.” His expression twisted a bit, “I mean I knew my Uncle ran a bookstore, but I had never been to it- never seen it-” There was a flash of guilt, “- or at least I never saw it while he was here...”

Shane’s thoughts trailed off. He looked away, down off the counter onto the living room rug. The orange cat was there sunning itself. He looked as if he was recalling something- a lot of something.

Ryan felt himself turn green with regret. “I’m sorry,”

“Oh- don’t be!” Shane put his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, and smiled like someone who was used to covering things up, “I’m the one being a sap- not you- it wasn't like you knew or anything.”

Ryan felt his insides crunch at that. “Yeah… guess I didn’t know that you inherited the place...”

“Besides-” Shane said, “He had a full life- full enough to think of me to leave this place.” He took a drink, as if to close the conversation. “So do you like university here?”

“Yes,” Ryan said, like he was unimportant, “It’s good- the classes are good.”

There was an uncomfortable pause. Ryan was hit with the brief and terrible notion that he didn’t know who he was or what he was doing. What did he even like- other than Shane- Movies? Books?

“You must be pretty good to have gotten in there. I hear the grad program for film here is really swell,”

There’s that word again- swell. Ryan couldn’t help but crack a smile, “I mean yeah-” He flushed, “I guess the program is pretty tough-” He snuck a glance at Shane’s smiling eyes, that were urging him to say more- to be proud of himself. He adjusted in his seat, “Who- who am I kidding,” He admitted, “It’s a great program and I’m lucky to have gotten in. I’m mean, I’m not a wonder or anything at it but I love it. And I guess that’s half the battle right there.” He took a thoughtful sip, “Or at least that's what they tell us. I’m not so sure it’s true.”

“Did you always know,” Shane said, polishing off the last of his salmon,

“Know I wanted to do film?” Ryan shrugged,

“Yeah?” Shane asked earnestly, “I mean what drew you to it?”

Ryan thought awhile. Vague and impressive answers passed him: the social impact of film; the artistry of the production; the power of film to be a multi-layered work of art; the community. They were all good answers, with good fleshed out reasons behind them. He should know. He had written about them- included all of them in his entrance essays and personal statements. Those answers had gotten him to where he was. They were great. They were intellectual. They were bullshit. Shane didn’t deserve bullshit.

“I knew I liked stories.” Ryan said softly, “However, I knew I was no good at writing them. I tried. I just couldn’t work it out. Bounced around from creative lit- to journalism- to theater- all of it sucked… So, I chose the next best thing. If I couldn’t write stories- I would tell them.” He ran his finger around the rim of his glass, and took a drink, “So you know, I had to change my whole life orientation at the time. I met with my advisor and scraped together the rancid sack of shit I called my college credits and applied to a two year film school down in the valley. I got in. Which was a surprise. And then I got my first couple of jobs in the industry- I worked on sets- mostly small time TV grunt work- but eventually I found my stride and then I learned to love it. At first, I had thought of working in film as some kind of set back. The second choice. But I think things tend to happen for a reason and now I couldn’t see myself anywhere else then where I am now... you know here...”

He finished, and the strange flow of consciousness state he had been narrating with vanished. He was back in the moment. Back with Shane. God he had wanted to be honest, but something of his soul had come out that he hadn’t intended on giving. And Shane- well Shane was looking at him intently, fully, and with understanding- like he was sad that he had stopped- like they were meeting for the first time all over again. And the only thing that Ryan could think of was of how he had never felt this before- with anyone.

“So, no.” He said, trying to resurface, “I didn’t always know.”

Shane glanced at their quickly clearing plates. Ryan could see thoughts forming. “I guess this is a given but you like movies right?”

Ryan’s hair stood on end. Was Shane thinking what he thought he was thinking?

“Yes- Yes- I love them.”

“I ah-” Shane seemed to be grappling with himself, “I have some.”

“Some movies?” Ryan’s pulse was in his ears.

“Yeah-” Shane played with the hem of his sleeve, “They just came in- I ordered them. I haven’t had a chance to-”

“To watch them?”

“Yeah-” Shane laughed skittishly, “I was thinking maybe we could watch one- er- together?” He bit his lip, “If you want to stay and have dessert and have the time.”

“Have the time?”

“Yeah.” Shane leaned back a bit. 

After all of this he was still reserved- still acting like he was the one that wasn’t supposed to be here- like this wasn’t supposed to be happening to him- when clearly, or at least it was clear in Ryan’s mind, that it was him that didn’t deserve this, not Shane. Shane deserved everything.

“I have the time,” Ryan answered,

“Really,” Shane seemed surprised.

“Yes, really.”

“I’ll-” He slid out of the chair, “I’ll handle the dishes and stuff- why don’t you go over to the couch- look through them- I don’t know if any of them are any good.” Shane said over his shoulder, already cleaning up the kitchen, “Like I said I have yet to watch them.”

“Oh- I’m sure… sure they’re probably great picks,” Ryan said, uncertain if this was really happening.

Dinner and dessert and a movie? Did Shane plan this- hatch this ingenious infectious scheme- or was all this just a coincidence. The idea that Shane thought that much of him both emboldened him and made him sweat with how badly he could still fuck this up. Obviously, Shane was way out of his league and just hadn't noticed it yet. How he hadn’t noticed it between the monolog about his failing early college career or his wrist grabbing antics- it was unclear. Shane seemed perfectly happy- thrilled even to spend the evening with him. Bizarre. Yes, the border between screwing this up and it being the start of the best thing to ever happen was thin.

Movie. Movie. Movie. That could change everything- set the tone- or kill it. He went over to the couch and as described there was a small box of movies still in their packaging. He glanced through them. To his surprise, they were mainly foreign films he had never heard of. That’s right- for a moment he forgot to add scary critic to the list of the things Shane was. If Ryan had heard of the movies- no doubt they would be bad movies- as a rule of thumb. At least there was a comfort in knowing Shane had bought all of these- so if it was rotten- it wasn’t entirely his fault. He flipped a couple of them over before landing on the absolute landmine.

“In the Mood for Love,” If the title wasn’t enough the description covered it. A long burning will they won’t they romance, tinged with elements of scandal, and complete with a “moving” soundtrack.

Fuck. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. But then again… He looked back at the stack. Why was he doing this to himself? He should just play it saf-

“Oh?” Shane's voice cracked from overhead. “You want to watch ‘In the Mood for Love’?”

Ryan looked up, caught red-handed. The dvd case burning a hole in his hand. Fuck it.

“Yeah-” He said, doing his best to own it, “It stuck out to me,”

Shane kind of stood there for a moment, like a dead tree, as if this development hadn’t been anticipated.

“Dessert?” He handed Ryan the plate stiffly- shoving it more in his face then really anything else.

“Thanks,” Ryan could feel himself liquify. Too much yet again. He sat with his plate on the sofa feeling the literal nervous walls go up between the two of them. What had he done? It had been a nice quiet evening and he made it into a nightmare.

Shane was being polite about it. Didn’t even suggest another movie. Instead he graciously took the case and popped the disc into the machine. They sat down together- enough apart for the distance to be noticed. Or maybe Ryan was just feeling low. In either case, what was worse was the movie. The movie was fucking fantastic- painful really. Every soft glance and almost touch between the two leads made Ryan want to kill himself. Torture is what it was. It was a huge blinking sign of “hey that could be us- we could have a torrid affair- wouldn’t that be great- confess our love- hahaha.” Fuck.

In all this mayhem, Shane didn’t make a sound. He seemed invested in the movie- albeit quiet about it. In that, there was a small sliver of hope that perhaps Shane wasn’t taking it bad. But Ryan couldn’t really read him without being obvious. So that hope was probably a delusion. 

The movie ended sad. Because why would it end happy- why would any of this end happy? Ryan could feel himself spiraling as the last credit rolled by.

There was a beat of tense silence.

“Did you ah-” Shane’s voice was small, “Did you like the movie?”

Ryan turned his head towards him, everything inside him one large knot. “It was great… how they came together to ah- like that...”

Shane nodded. Ouch, this was getting rough.

“Um,” Ryan stirred, “I guess it’s pretty late now…”

“Oh yeah-” Shane replied. His expression changed. “Late- you probably want to get home- oh- uh- I’ll walk you out.”

Yes. Out. Ryan put on a brave face. A death march. There would be no Farmer’s Market.

Together they stepped down the ladder and worked their way through the store- Ryan burning the whole way. Thankfully he didn’t have to walk out the front door and risk being seen by Steven- who no doubt would have questions- as Shane took him out to the side entrance- which was closer to the backstairs. On the stoop of the door in the dimming light of the side street Shane looked different- mildly destroyed. Had the evening been that bad.

“So ah-” Shane leaned forward, resting his hand on the frame of the door “-this wasn’t too much of a drag- dinner and all?”

“Are you serious?” Ryan exclaimed, an indignation that he didn't know was there jumping out of his mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m serious- is it… was it- was this any good?” Shane’s expression was tentative and reserved. Ryan tempered. Shane was being genuine. “I mean-” Shane began again, “I’m not one for guests- and it’s hard to be your own judge… your kind of… the first?”

Ryan’s lips parted. “The first?”

“Well-” Shane made a quaky- reluctant laugh, “Kinda- I mean I don’t really do stuff like this.”

Like this? Ryan’s heart raced. This- This? What was this? What did he mean? Fuck- did he mean guys- he hadn’t even considered that Shane might not be-

“I mean…” Shane ran his hand down the wall, before daring a glance in Ryan’s direction, “Have people over.”

Ryan’s panic halted. Yes, he was new here. Quiet. Steven had said that. Shane managed a cool expression, but there was something underneath it. Shane was trying- really trying- at what exactly Ryan didn’t know. The evening was cursory, a vehicle for something greater. It went deeper than that. It went right to his core. Ryan thought of the articles he had read and about Shane’s view on the world. The trying definitely meant more in their context. He just knew it did- and something in him swelled up fiery and urgent.

He leaned in, “You wanna know what I think?”

Shane seemed uncertain if he did.

“I think-” Ryan shook his finger at him, “I think you’re unreal.”

“What?” Shane shuttered, “Oh come on-”

“No- No-” Ryan felt his anxiety balling up in his throat- but he couldn’t stop, something had to be said and now, “I think you’re unreal- I think that you have a fucking dope ass place- I think you have an independent and amazing job- I think you’re charming-” Wow had he said that, “I think you’re- well look at you-” Ryan flung his wrist in Shane’s general direction, “And you’re asking me if I thought it was a drag?” Shane was completely colorless. But it didn’t matter. Ryan’s mouth was ahead of him. “You make me this elaborate 5-star type of dinner that's too good for me to touch let alone eat- and then you sit me down- and we talk about whatever the hell we talk about- pretending like we don't know why we're here- and then we watch this almost two hour long slow-burning fuck of a movie and you think I was bored? Bored? It was fucking agony- While you sat there in silence- You frustrating dense mother fuc-”

Ryan made a high pitched yelp of surprise, as Shane yanked him up by the lapels and shoved him back against the doorway. The built-up tension snapped into a quick succession of hot messy kisses. The initial pull became more of an embrace as hands ran through hair and legs brushed and wove together. Shane’s arms rose till they framed Ryan against the wall- pressing him against it. There was a roughness to it that Ryan wholeheartedly did not expect. But holy shit did he enjoy it- leaning into every touch- trying to match everything he threw at him- but at every turn Shane fucking annihilated him. 

And then as abruptly as he began Shane- broke away- breathing heavy- absolutely shaking. 

"Oh god-" He faltered backward, his hands running a ragged trail through his hair, "Christ I didn't mean to- you were so- I'm sor" 

Ryan took ahold of his handkerchief, a convenient handle, and did the shutting up this time. He could feel Shane startle and then melt under his touch. A wry smile formed on his mouth as it was still locked with Shane's, knowing that he could pull the same stunt to the same effect. Satisfied he had made his point, he pushed Shane- who was still eagerly kissing away- back against the frame of the door. See he could play rough too. 

"Now," Ryan said, Shane's faint look making him feel dangerously powerful, "I'm going to get the fuck out of here. I'm going to go home. And- and we're going out Saturday. And we're going to have a nice time. Got it?"

Shane, wide-eyed, didn't say anything but it was clear that he agreed. 

"Good," Ryan waved his hand, stepping out of the doorway and into the street, "See you," 

"See you..." Shane's weak but longing voice called out from behind him. 

Ryan straightened his shirt and made his best attempt to walk away stoically as if that didn't just fucking happen. As if he didn't just fall in love right then and there.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!!! This chapter made me really high-key emotional when I was writing it. It's definitely more introspective- and not as exciting as the previous chapter- but Ryan has just been through a lot so I thought it was appropriate <333 
> 
> Thanks as always for the kudos and the comments and the questions <333 it means so much <333

His breath shook as he walked across the campus. His thoughts were gone. They had all spilled out. All that was left was emotions- scattered energy. His two feet were on the ground but they weren’t attached to it. He could feel himself vanish out of his body, the world becoming a tunnel vision haze. His soul swelled up indigo like the blues. He was diffused light. He was transparent. And madness was all about.

It was the evening and classes were coming to a close. People were free now to do as they liked till the next morning. It was the middle of the week, meaning it was the height of restlessness on campus. On the weekend people had time to get out- drive to wherever- but on the weeknights there was no time for that. People wanted to do as much nothing as possible, and driving would cut into that- reducing the potential nothingness to be done in half. So instead of heading out, the populace gathered in the corners of the Union, on the lawns of the library, and in the recesses of the on-campus cafes.

There were more people out than usual tonight. Finals were three and a half weeks away. Time was running out. The crowd was nervous- so they sought the company of other nervous people- to talk it out- or to forget about it entirely. It would be just another summer for most- but after this semester it would be the real world for many others. Scary- to think about such a change- to uproot and move out into a new chapter of life. It was something that just happens… or does it? Is it an accident? Is it all at once? Is it always there just waiting to happen?

The first step… the first step… and things come along…

His pulse fluttered with an unusual rhythm. Thoughts were beginning to return- surge actually- in his head. No matter what he had said. He couldn’t go home. Not like this. He would combust upon arrival- he didn’t even know what that would look like- what that would mean- he just knew without a doubt that it would happen. He became scared- really scared- and his eyes welled up at even the glancing thought of it. His steps quickened and he felt cold all over. It was a strange kind of fever, nothing technically wrong, but yet everything was haywire, upside down. His chest was filled with feathers. He couldn’t catch his breath. He wanted to disintegrate and go in all different directions and do all different things. He wanted to-

He stopped himself. He felt suddenly weak. His feet ground to a halt and he caught himself against a column on the side of the Union. Dizzy. Brimming over.

There was a loud sound cutting the noise in his head- flooding it actually. There was music coming at him- jazz to be precise- a lot of it and it was live. 8’oclock on Wednesday night- yes- from the Union’s split-level lounge and inner courtyard patio- the weekly bash hosted by the music department. Perfect place to wait out the storm- hide from it- abate it- before it eclipsed him. Instinctively, he ducked through the nearest door he could find that led somewhere- pushed his way up the staircase- and went out up into the upper balcony that faced inwards into the inner square of the Union where the music was happening.

It was shadowy and bustling- packed out- even on the upper floor. He stole into a seat that was lucky enough to have a view of the stage below. From over the glass railing he looked down. There was a collection of guys hammering out some sort of broken but melodic jam down there- really going at it- fingers flying- keys pounding. It was chaotic and it resonated all the way down his spine- rattling up his already unsteady state of mind. Emotions began to pour from him.

This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have come here. Fuck what was this. He tried to move but he was held to his seat by some unknown heavy feeling in his chest- a deep-seated panic. From wanting to run to being unable to move. Fight- Flight- Freeze- Maybe if he stayed still enough- it might not hit him- might not notice him. God what was he fighting so damned hard? The evening had been fine- wonderful- better than everything he could have hoped for. So why wasn’t he happy- or jumping for joy- or something anything- other than this hell. He had been so firm. Good time. They were going to have a good time. They were going to cut the shit and be honest… be honest…

The music became louder- culminating in a tangled- layered tapestry of sound- before falling quiet. From the side a woman came up and introduced herself on the stand. Ryan didn’t know they did singing too. But then again he almost never stopped in here. He had only really heard about it from word of mouth. He was always too busy- too distracted- to ever sit down and really give it a listen.

The music started again, slow and steady this time, and she took the mic and began to sing. At the first word, he could feel the sea pulling out from the shore. With every new verse it pulled farther- receding past the sandbars- and then glancing off the horizon. He was left out to dry- vulnerable- knowing something was coming. All the premonitions that he had from the first moment that he had laid eyes on Shane were upon him.

Madness. Yes- Madness. Confusion in the middle of the now cloudy night.

As he watched the evening summertime air drew in around him, growing humid and cool. Would it rain again? Would it rain all summer? Would it be a damp and foggy fall? Fall- how Ryan softened as he thought of it- how Shane might look in the Fall.

He wanted to see him in every season and in every place. He wanted to hear how he talked in the small hours of the morning and through the din of a crowded room. He wanted to know how the midday sun would look on his skin, and what he would whisper in the coves of parties. He wanted to hear his laughter as it sounded through many different rooms. He wanted to know how it felt to do nothing with him and how it felt to do everything with him.

She let loose a dire and tender note- and it broke against him- the thing that had been gathering in the distance- the wave. The sizzling energy jumping around inside his limbs suddenly grounded in a magnetic thunderclap in his head. He had found someone- really found someone. And he knew that he had never done so before. He could see the future- the whole thing- and it was with him. He didn’t even try to stop himself from imagining it- he couldn’t- it was too clear. It had only been a few days and he was certain. Was Shane certain too? Was that why he had kissed him? Was he as afraid of losing this as he was?

Ryan was crying now, from under his half-closed hand, hot streams of emotion in his eyes. He had fucked up almost everything in his life one way or another. Nothing had been straight forward or settled. He had to fight to find himself- fight for a career- fight for a direction. In every relationship he was always the one stitching shit together- clinging to sinking ships. A crush he was ready to handle- a casual boyfriend for sure- but this? After not even a week?

What would happen if it fell through- if they didn’t have a good time- if things didn’t work out? He was a dramatic all in fuck on a good day- how was he supposed to stop himself from…

Honesty…

The tears continued to flow. They were down to his chin now. What an absolute mess and in public too. He would have to walk back to his dorm like this. Maybe he could hide in the bathroom. Christ. As clear as the future was- it was also dreamlike- fragile. The absolute need to do everything right at this second was overwhelming. Would it overwhelm everything? Would it be too much- like a fire snuffing itself out- running out of oxygen?

A quick but painful stab of apprehension hit him. He had barely held it together long enough to leave. What would happen on Saturday when he would spend all day with him? He couldn’t disguise this forever and just act chill. It was like keeping a pet wildfire in his chest. Eventually, there would be smoke.

At least Shane had made the first move… that was something… wait-

His mood swung in a different direction. He pinched his eyes together as the realization formed. Shane had made ALL the first moves. He was the one to say hello, give him cider, invite him in, ask him out, make cakes, make dinner, suggest a movie, and kiss him- How the fuck- How did that even happen?

He sat straight up in his seat. Outrageous- Unbearable- He had been hustled- right under his nose! By him of all people- that sheepish scarecrow-

His tears dried from shock. He whipped out his phone.

“Thanks again for the lovely dinner big guy :),”

Sent. He got up. The music no longer was interesting. In fact it was giving him a headache now. He needed to focus. If he was going to spend the rest of his life with him- yes he knew he was being insane- he needed to get a grip on the situation. He wiped his face with his sleeve. Serious- yes serious Ryan time. Shane had managed to not see how much of a loser he was for one night and he needed to work his hardest to make sure it stayed that way- forever- if possible. That was the only way.

His phone lit up: “You’re welcome- truly it was nothing- we could do it again another time!”

No- enough of this shit. The ire and resolve he had had at the doorway returned. He was going to be the one with the plan. He was going to be the one with surprises. No more of this deer in headlights shit. He couldn’t outclass Shane in any way, but he could sure as hell outplay him. He wracked his brain for what to do- what to say- oh yeah don't leave him on read for one thing.

“Yeah for sure- it was fantastic,”

He added some non-cringe emoji for good measure. What did Shane like? He rummaged through everything he had seen in the apartment as he walked back to his dorm with renewed purpose. Records? No- too soon- too specific. Plants? There were those few on the window sills- but they were not in the greatest of health- maybe they were his Uncle’s. Yikes wouldn’t want to step into that territory again. Maybe he would wait for the market and get him something there- watch to see what he liked. But what if he didn’t like anything. Was that possible?

He opened his door and wandered through the kitchen to his room. His roommate was making popcorn. Usually he’d stop to swipe a few bites- but he wasn’t in the right headspace for that- besides he suspected his face was a swollen puff from being such a weepy shit. That would draw questions that he didn’t want to answer lest he got dragged back down into that bottomless pit that was stirring still in his stomach.

He undid the top buttons to his shirt and started pacing his room. There were a lot of things in Shane's apartment. But what did they mean- what did they amount to altogether- who was he… there was still so much he didn’t know. If only he was a better stalker- no terrible- terrible thought- no stalking- be normal about it. Yes- be fucking normal. No clinging. No horrid gestures. Casual- casual-

He halted. His eyes stopped on the floor- on the copy of “The Spy Who Came in From The Cold.” It had fallen out of his bag and was currently shoved halfway under his bed. The books and “S.” He had almost completely forgotten about it in all the tumult. There was almost no doubt in his mind now that Shane was “S” and that those books were his. He had thought about it many times before- but now it was more than an idle question. What did those books say about him- especially in contrast to who he had been in Chicago? Was there anything to gleam…

He thought that putting a face to the initial would make things easier- but it didn’t. It made things harder actually. Philosophy- History- Espionage- Blah- Blah- it made no sense. None of it made sense. Why was Shane here- Why had he just moved- Why did his Uncle leave him that place if Shane had never seen it- Why was h-

Cold-brew. Shane buys cold brew.

That’s a normal thing. That’s a normal gift. At least as normal as cider. First thing tomorrow morning- no- no- too soon- way too soon- first thing Friday morning- he would have to get some and bring it over. He would be by to pick up the next book anyways. Low-key. Perfect. Non-suspect.

What book would Shane recommend this week? Ryan thought about the clear romantic undertones that the last recommendation had. Would this next book be the same- did Shane even know he was reading the recommendations? He had checked him out last time- but that could have been a coincidence. It would be crazy right if Shane knew.

Ryan picked up the book from under the bed and put it up on the shelf. If Shane knew… Ryan ran his hands down the spines of the other books- a flushed heat flaring up in his cheeks as he thought about it… It was impossible. There was no way. He threw himself on the unforgiving and creaky bed- and rolled over to look at the ceiling. Thoughts of how it felt to kiss him rose up in his mind. God- how many nights in a row would he have to be sleepless before finally learning to not think of shit like that…

He sighed. Friday. Friday…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol bitches high-key miss going to campus and listening to the wen. jazz band and vibing- me- me is bitches-


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god you guys!!!! :DDDDDD you are literally the sweetest and I thank-you so much for riding on this journey with me. I am again awake at 4:00 delivering this fresh off the presses content. I'm so happy that the last chapter sat well cause I was high key nervous about it- but we are back to the usual antics in this chapter- :DDD
> 
> As always thank-you so much <33333

The alarm went off, blasting its cheerful bouncing tones next to his head. Usually, he would start awake and maybe even slap the snooze button, but his eyes were already open. He had been awake for who knows how long, arising sometime before the sun came up, in that period when the birds first start to sing. His dreams had been sparse, and his mind had been noisy. It was still noisy. In the time from when he had first opened his eyes till now, he had just sort of laid there in bed listening to its chatter, watching the dawn as it slowly invaded his room through the half-shut blinds.

The space between staying in bed and getting up seemed like an immense chasm- cause once he got up he knew that it would be the start of the day and that all the events that he had been anticipating would be set into motion. You see it was Friday again. And he had gone to bed that night impatient for the morning. And now the morning was here.

He eventually stuck his foot out from under the covers until it came in contact with the floor. The day had begun. It was time to jump headlong into it- to turn the tide- for better or worse.

He got up and went about his routine. He took a quick shower. He got dressed in another outfit that he had been curating. He styled his hair into something. He packed his bag. And he was ready.

He went out the side door and jumped down the concrete steps down to the main shuttle stop, his shoes making a scuffing noise against the ground. As he waited for the shuttle to the downtown square, he plugged in his music as he rocked back and forth on his heels- jumpy- counting the songs it took to arrive as a rudimentary measurement of how hasty he needed to be.

The shuttle creaked to a halt in front of him. It had taken three songs- three songs too many. He pushed through the door and the swarm of people within. It was a busy day today, and there was barely standing room between the art students with their unruly portfolios and the crack-of-dawn duffle bag dragging gym rats cluttering up the place. But that was fine- it had to be fine- he was going to fit. He yanked his bag through and sandwiched himself in the back. The shuttle lurched. He swayed back and forth as he held on to the bar of the ceiling. The little led sign blinked it’s red letters, as the electronic crackle of the overhead voice read out the different stops as they passed.

****College Station and Hickory****

He shoved his way through the sea of shoulders and backpacks and exited out the double doors to the curb. The shops in the square were just opening up- the morning cafés setting out the outdoor furniture and stores flicking on the lights. Good- Good- he thought to himself as if that meant something- proved the seriousness of his expedition- that he was one of the first people to arrive at the square.

He did a half-jog across the street and went into the old firehouse building that housed Yate’s Corner Grocery. In the middle of the night he had remembered the one other thing that Shane had said he liked- Bagels.

Bagels and coffee? Pretty smooth right? Smooth enough to make up for not being half as good as he ought to be for him- or so he hoped. He could at least try to hedge his chances for as long as possible. He was good at making things work. If he could just do enough… maybe it would be different this time… if he could just keep up appearances…

The bagels fresh, full, and fluffy. It took him a while to decide the best one- because it had to be the best. He could feel himself getting even shakier as he carefully packed them up in the wax paper bag- a cinnamon one for him and an onion one for Shane- the literally ying and yang of the selection- complete opposites. But opposites attract- right? He frowned.

With the bag cradled under his arm he paid and went back out to the stop. The shuttle back to campus was nowhere to be seen- didn’t they know he had places to be- people to impress- no time for this-

The shuttle arrived. He again crowded on. After several stops and closely timed shuttle changes- he finally arrived in front of the coffee shop.

To his dismay- the shop was busy too. Caffeine was flowing at ungodly speeds, and even still there was a line of around 15 people that wound around from the register to the door. He took his place in line and sulked at how long it was going to be before he finally could get on his way and get to Shane-

He caught a glimpse of silver hair bobbing around behind the expresso machine- Steven’s silver hair. Ryan turned uncomfortably red. Notes of panic with overtones of extreme embarrassment arose.

Fuck- he should have thought about Steven being here- for crying out loud Steven had told him about the fucking cold brew. A lump rose in Ryan’s throat. Each person served now was just another spot closer to Steven asking questions- a ticking time bomb.

A jumble of half-rehearsed words flooded around in his mouth as he came up to the register.

Steven swiveled over from the steaming machine to the counter, happy as ever, unwittingly the agent of doom.

“What can I do for you this morning?”

“Hi- yeah,” Ryan looked briefly up at the board as if he didn’t know, “I’ll have a medium London Fog-“

“Right on,” Steven hummed, quickly tapping the order in and holding his hand out for his card. 

“And- uh-“ Ryan glanced over at the display of muffins, chickening for a moment, “-can I also uh- have a large cold brew?“

Steven looked up, “A cold brew?”

“A cold brew…” Ryan repeated.

Steven looked at him with a wry expression, leaning over the register, “A brew that is cold?”

Ryan bit his cheek, “Yes- uh that’s- that’s what I want.”

“In addition to the other drink… so two drinks…”

“You know that there is a ah- a line back here.” Ryan pointed his thumb behind him.

Steven shrugged tapping away on the screen. “Two drinks….” He sighed, “For one…” He dramatically pressed the last button, “Man…”

“Yeah no shit Sherloc-“

“-9.45,” Steven cut, holding his hand out again.

Ryan reluctantly gave him the card- and Steven slid it through. Ryan felt as though he was going to burn up. Christ- wasn’t living with these feelings enough- did he also have to speak about them? The twinkle in Steven’s eye as he handed him back the card gave him a foreboding feeling.

Ryan slunk over to a small table and waited. Every other glance he made at the bar- he saw Steven glancing back at him- with a cunning grin. So, it was going to be like that- a fate with one inevitable end- an end which would result in him spilling his guts out. He shifted in his seat. He very much liked his guts inside- where they were supposed to be. Maybe he could still bluff his way out of this… His eyes rotated down to the bag of bagels. He was getting breakfast foods. Breakfast foods could in theory could look like- he choked on his own thoughts. Shit- Steven was going to pry him open. His mind buzzed. Even the truth probably wouldn’t make this add up. Like it could have happened- that could have been- well- breakfast- fuck-

Steven popped up in front of him, triumphantly and personally setting the drinks on the table.

“He like’s it with a shot of hazelnut- just so you know,” Steven said simply.

Ryan looked up at him- expecting the first degree- but the first degree shockingly didn’t come.

“I didn't put the hazelnut in this time though.” Steven added, “In case you’re worried I did.”

Ryan blinked, dumbfounded. “Worried?”

“Yeah,” Steven continued with a smirk, “If he didn’t tell you how would you know? You're already on thin ice getting cold brew- but you know- cold brew is our most popular drink so- it could have just been a guess.”

“Right,” Ryan said, feeling vaguely like an idiot.

“Unless he asked you to bring it and you forgot- I can go add the shot- but I wagered that you remembered what I said about him and not that you had forgotten his coffee order.”

So, maybe Steven really was Sherlock. Too many neurons in that brain. There was a span of silence. Ryan was still expecting a grilling.

Steven sighed, “Well go on-“ He pointed at the door, “Get the heck out of here you coffee bearing Romeo- go and get him before the ice melts.”

Ryan nodded vigorously, making mumbling noises of thanks and see you soons. He got up from the table and scurried through the shop and across the street to Calypso’s- that was just opening it's doors. Shane wasn’t downstairs. That was both good and bad. Good in that he was probably upstairs, which meant there was the possibility of eating breakfast with him instead of just dropping it off. Bad in that he hadn’t texted him before coming. He had wanted this to be a surprise. They had been texting off and on since they had dinner. But he had yet to receive a text today. So Shane might be busy…

He tapped a stray employee by the shoulder.

“Is ah-“ He wasn’t sure how familiar he should sound to an employee, “Is Mr. Madej around?”

“Oh you mean Shane?” She replied as if she had never heard anyone say his last name before.

“Yes, Shane,” He repeated.

“He’s upstairs in the office- do you want me to get him for you?”

“No-“ He assured, “I know my way around I just wanted to make sure he was in.”

“He’s in.” She said flatly.

Was she awkward or was it him- it didn’t matter he got the information he needed. He thanked her and then went up the stairs to the office. The door was closed like last time, and he still felt strangely nervous. Was this weird? He stalled. He lingered. The ice in the cold brew was forming condensation on the outside of the cup. Before the ice melts…

He knocked.

“It’s open!” Shane’s distinctively business voice called out from behind the door.

Ryan took a deep breath and eased through the door. The office was back to being a mess. Not as messy as before. But just enough to show that it had definitely been cleaned when he had come over that night. Mess was clearly its natural state. Shane had his back towards him- bent over the desk- working busily away at something. His hair was in an interesting fluff this morning- bigger than usual and a bit crooked. Bedhead? Ryan jittered at the thought of it. Too cute. Too good. Was he allowed to touch it now? He had touched his hair before but that was different- something rash done in heat of the moment antics. This was a clear-headed morning. Somehow that context made things much less permissive in regards to hair touching. Yes- bad idea. He adjusted his grip on the paper bag- bagels- yes bagels- that’s enough for now. Bagels and coffee. Remain on task.

He tried his best to cautiously approach, stepping around the boxes and the stacks of loose books, and as he came up to the desk for a moment he was able to see what Shane was so eagerly working on. It was writing- lots and lots of writing- on loose physical paper. Did anyone even do that any more? Right stuff other than class notes on paper? Shane’s pen was moving quickly on a scratchy and inked up page. It was so inked up in fact Ryan could smell the metallic smell of it from about three feet away. There were a few words he could pick out and phrases- they were strange- broken up- and then it dawned on him. It wasn’t prose… It was poetry.

Shane, becoming aware of someone’s very close and persisting presence, flashed a quick uninterested glance upwards, expecting to see someone of no consequence. However, he saw Ryan. His eyes went about two sizes bigger- first with failure to comprehend and then with the fright that came with comprehension.

“Ah-“ The papers made a scattering noise under his startled palms. He took a slow breath to collect himself, “Good Morning,”

“Good Morning,” Ryan echoed.

Shane had a calm face- but underneath it there was an obvious panic- around the tight corners of his mouth and the slightly drawn wrinkles under his eyes. Yes- panic. He should have texted him before coming. This was awful.

“I thought,” Ryan’s mouth felt full of needles, “That since you were so nice to me and made me dinner and everything it would be nice to surprise you with breakfast.”

Shane looked at him as if he was speaking in a dead language- failing to process it.

“So,” Ryan continued doing his best to not look at the desk, “I went to Yate’s and got some bagels and also went across the street and got us drinks.” Ryan held up Shane’s cup trying to be mindful to not drip it on the papers below, “I got cold brew. I asked- well- it’s their most popular drink. So I figured that it would be okay for you I wasn’t sure…”

Could Shane see the smoke screens he was hiding behind- because to Ryan the air was absolutely thick with it. Or perhaps that was coming from Shane, whose hand was slowly moving to cover what he was working on, as if there weren’t heaps of papers everywhere.

“It’s-” Shane began, trying to recover, “It’s actually my favorite. I’m always slurping them down- actually- I mean- thanks, Ryan.”

Ryan stiffened. Shane had never said his name before. He could feel himself getting fluttery and red, as he handed him the cup.

“Don’t mention it,” Ryan replied almost in a whisper.

“Would you- would you sit down,” Shane’s normal expressions finally turned back on- as he pointed to the chair, “I’m sorry for being such a mess- I- well I was just working and well I-“

“It’s fine,” Ryan said, easing down on the edge of the chair, “I’m the one who surprised you not the other way around.”

Shane smiled, “I suppose that’s true,” He pushed his hair back and made a face as he felt how helter-skelter it was. He quickly made some smoothing motions. No more bedhead. No more fluffy cloudy Shane. A tragedy.

“Your bagel.” Ryan handed the little bag over.

“OH!” Shane lit up, apparently having forgotten, eagerly taking it from Ryan’s hand, “Yes- I mean thanks again I’m just- honestly this is really wonderful- I actually haven’t eaten much since we last were- er- well since that night- I have been busy doing all sorts of work-” His eyes trailed subconsciously to the papers. He made a two-dimensional smile, “-Editing.” He said blankly, before taking a hasty bite.

“Editing?” Ryan sipped his drink.

Shane chewed for a few moments, “Yeah, remember manuscripts.” He made an uncertain gesture at the pile, “I have been sorting through and sort of ordering things- organization and junk- to make it read better.”

Ryan looked over at the piles of half-printed half-scrawled sheets. “Did they send it to you like this?”

“Fuck no-“ Shane said, like an authority, “That’s me and my messy goblin way of doing things. See some of the bits don’t go together as they are. There are supposed to be three distinct books- sections- within this one text and I don’t want to just cut a fourth of the book just because it doesn’t fit- so I’m kind of making it fit- Frankensteining it-“ He made a gesture reminiscent of a mad scientist, before reaching over and making an attempt to clean up one of the stacks, “I find that y’know writing it out by hand gives me the feeling of it- a sense of a flow- maybe of intention. I guess it sounds rather silly- you know saying it out loud- but when you’re trying to glue together a bunch of puzzle pieces that weren’t cut for each other you’ll take anything you can get...”

Ryan slowly took a bite of his bagel, as he watched Shane’s hand slowly tap up and down on the desk.

“So-“ Ryan said, “Are you making this ah- ‘your’ painting,”

Shane’s hand tapped a bit faster, “I don’t know.” He murmured with a certain concern, “Right now it still isn’t anything but words- images come later.”

In the depths of Shane’s eyes Ryan could see something, a blend of deeply rolling emotions and thoughts, before he quickly and with finality gathered up the stacks and shoved them into a drawer out of sight.

Nothing published… Nothing of note… Ryan stared at the drawer for a moment.

“So, what’s been on your plate?” Shane said, drawing Ryan’s attention back to reality, “Are they still shoveling you those heaps of papers?”

“Something like that,” Ryan sighed, in fact he hadn’t really looked at what had been dropped off at his office since that night.

“I imagine finals make things into a new sort of-“ Shane swung the end of his bagel around in the air, 

“-Cluster fuck?” Ryan interrupted,

Shane wheezed, “Yes,”

“It does- everyone is wrapping up and tired and looking forward to break- etc. etc.”

Shane took a quiet sip of his drink, “So- ah,” He paused, “Are you going anywhere for the summer…”

Ryan looked up at him. Shane hadn't said it but it was clear what he was really asking- he was asking about the future.

“No,” Ryan said, “I’m staying. I have year-round residency because I tutor,”

Shane nodded- pleased- but not wanting to appear too eager. Had he been thinking about it too… or was this a chance question…

Suddenly- Ryan's phone alarm went off again- practically making them both jump out of their seats. He wrangled it out of his bag and turned it off.

“I’m sorry- I have to go-“ Ryan felt guilty saying it, “I have class,”

“No problem-“ Shane tried his best to not look put out, “I understand.”

Ryan smiled shyly. They were going to say goodbye again. But it was morning- as he had already noted before- and things were different. Shane followed- or rather hovered- around Ryan as he rose from the chair and walked through the office to leave. As he came to the doorway and grasped the handle, Ryan felt a small tug on the corner of his sleeve. He fleetingly inhaled, as Shane pulled him in and gently planted a kiss on his cheek.

“See you tomorrow,” Shane breathed, before rubbing the back of his hand against the slight stubble of Ryan’s cheek.

Ryan’s thinking mind was gone- empty- finished- bested. It took almost all the will power he had not to do something rash right then and there and let go of the doorknob. But instead he closed his mouth- which he had found to be hanging open- and nodded- “Yeah, tomorrow.”

Shane made a subtle motion like he was going to say or do something more and then decided not to. Wise- because if he had- Ryan most definitely wouldn’t have been able to open the door. Slowly edging out, Ryan closed the door behind him with a click- collapsing somewhat back against it as it shut.

How was it he had orchestrated that whole interaction and yet still he was the one in the puddle on the floor? It was almost infuriating. Next time- Next time he was going to get him. He was going to make him fucking pay for that. Absolute tease- disgraceful-

His eyes landed on the endcap- more specifically the endcap where “S’s” recommendations were. There was a new book. Yes- Friday. This day kept on giving. He practically ran over to it and plucked it from the holder. It was a small thing- thin in his hand- but fuck. He nearly screamed as he read the title.

“Love is a Stranger: Selected Lyrical Poems of Rumi,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So- the plot be thiccccing some more- I mean- >_> y he shovin those papers away- might be food for thought.
> 
> also- if you haven't please read Rumi- he is so good and like owns my romantic ass


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiyaa!!!! This chapter is a lil bit shorter- but that was only because I decided to break up what was going to be one massive chapter into more reasonable chunks- also I thought this was perhaps interesting enough to stand on it's own? >_< hopefully?? 
> 
> Thank-you for being so lovely and encouraging and supportive and like I'm running out of things to say!!! but it means so much especially for someone who is pretty new to the fandom <33333333333

It was 9:45 AM Saturday morning. Ryan folded the back cover of the book closed for the fourth time. Tears had came and went multiple times during the course of the night and this morning. Happy tears- tears of longing- and tears from the unknown depths of his being. From when he had first opened the book upon arriving home he had not set it down- except to sleep- and even then in the breaks between his dreams he had rolled over to refresh passages in his memory again.

From the center of his body it had seized him by the soul. And he could do nothing but read and read it again. And he found that his emotion and the ache within him grew upon each turning of the page. It was remembrance- as if he had read it before- and it was an awakening- as if he was always meant to read it. It was earth shattering.

If… He could barely allow himself to think it. If Shane had put this out there on purpose for him…

He pressed himself up against the headboard of his bed. His mind was heavy laden with images and stray impactful verses, the cadence of the poems invading the very rhythm of his thoughts with their life pulse. The colors of the world changed- trending into hues of sunbathed afternoons and clear mornings. The voice in his head hushed to a whisper.

He half mouthed something- a word- the beginning of a phrase. He closed his eyes and muttered something more- the phrase flowing into a passage. Words fell from his mouth- harmonious in their sound- until his voice became still.

He turned back to go through the book to read it again:

_Don’t go anywhere without me.  
Let nothing happen in the sky apart from me,  
Or on the ground, in this world or that world  
Without my being in its happening.  
Vision, see nothing I don’t see.  
Language, say nothing.  
The way the night knows itself with the moon,  
Be that with me. Be the rose  
Nearest to the thorn that I am._

He ran his hand over the last line- repeating it as he did so. The book had been filled with soft things- romantic things- descriptions of gardens and moonlight nights and the intimacy of attraction. But that line had always hitched in his mind as he read it. The thorn- who was that. Was that him- or was that Shane- or was that no one at all… Was it just a line in a book directed to no one of importance. Why was it so hard to admit- He stopped himself. He knew why.

His phone buzzed next to him and he jumped to read it.

“I’m outside when you’re ready to roll :))”

Ryan hastily replied and scrambled out of the bed. He snatched his wallet and sunglasses and flew out the door. It was finally here- finally they would get to spend the whole day together. No phone calls. No classes. Just them for the whole day. He screeched to a halt before leaving out the outer door, quickly checking his reflection in the glass of the framing windows.

His hair was okay- he hadn't ever gotten around to that haircut he had been planning- but he had managed to push it back into a decent shape for once. And his outfit was passable too. Shane didn’t- and wouldn’t- know that it was a hodgepodge of borrowed items of clothing. The indifferent khaki pants were his, as well as his shoes, but the soft blue button-up with mid-length cuffed sleeves and the expensive leather belt were his roommates. Thank-god one of them had gotten a J. Crew gift card at some point otherwise it would have been a midnight Target run for him last night. Satisfied that he was- well- somewhat satisfactory- he walked out of the dorm and went over to the curb. He held his hand up to block the sun and scanned the roadside parking.

His gaze focused in at the end of the street. Bingo. Ryan strained against his immediate desire to run- forcing himself to make a casual approach.

His expression brightened as he came closer. Shane was standing along the side of his car, leaning back against it- arms crossed- like an absolute tall and effortless vision. He was in a breezy floral Hawaiian that was unbuttoned a bit at the top so that a glimpse of his chest was showing. That glimpse made Ryan’s breath shake like an idiot from the 1800s catching sight of an ankle. It was lethal- everything about- especially the small kissable divot where his neck met his collar bones. From behind his yellow-tinted shades Shane’s eyes were smiling smugly- proud of himself- as if he had caught the brief stare elicited by his risqué attire.

He grinned, self satisfied, down at him. “Going my way lil’ guy?”

“Shut up Shane,” Ryan instantly spat back- so quickly it almost surprised himself.

“Oh ho ho-“ Shane made a motion of mock fear, “Wouldn’t want it to come to that- shutting up- god forbid!”

Ryan glared- reflexively struck with the impulse to punch him right there for his multiple- flagrant- transgressions. Since when was he so confident- so assured. Maybe breakfast had been a mistake. He had created a monster.

“Yeah- yeah-“ Ryan hissed, his voice low and gravely from the lack of sleep and the crying, “God forbid…”

Shane’s cheeks flushed a hot deep red. He was the one staring now- unaware that his actions would have such attractive consequences.

“Um-“ He flicked his head back, his voice flighty again, “The- the passenger side’s all yours,”

Ryan stood there for a moment, as his brain lagged, overheated. “Oh-“ He blinked, “Sure thing- thanks-“

He shuffled around the car. It was a Prius. How on earth did his legs fit into this thing- he wondered as Shane slipped effortlessly through on the other side. As Ryan came around to the back- a surprised smile formed on his mouth for a moment. In the corner of the window there was a little bisexual flag sticker and a smoky the bear decal. He didn’t know what he had expected Shane to put on his car but that wasn’t it. Shane was so mysterious and reserved at times around him- not very open- or at least not as open as that. Did he put Shane on edge? 

He opened the passenger side of the car and got in. The car smelled like fake trees and hot plastic. He fiddled with the seatbelt for a bit- but only a bit- it thankfully didn’t fight him like how sometimes unfamiliar seatbelts do. Shane turned on the car and the radio started up.

“Feel free to play whatever- I know my music tastes aren’t always for everyone,” Shane said, with a small dismissive shrug. “Besides- you probably hear enough of it in the shop anyway.”

Oh yes, so it is his music in the store. Ryan’s eyes darted around the car, “Your aux?”

“Oh- yeah,” Shane hit center console while pulling out. “I forget about that- my phones ah- on the Bluetooth- no wires,”

Ryan nodded- his mind starting to race with what to play. On one hand he could play something that sounded similar to the stuff in the store and they could have a good laugh about being two peas in the pod or some shit. But on the other hand he could play something offbeat and niche- or well as about niche as he knew- and seem like a cultured person… and lastly, of course, he could play his normal mix- but that would be uncalled for and abysmal- but truthful.

His mind swam with these dire choices as he rummaged through the console. His hand finally happened upon the cord and as he pulled it out he saw that it was attached to something. Ensnared on the end of it was a half gone pack of Nicorette gum.

Shane smokes? His eyes widened. No- Shane did smoke. There was nothing wrong with that- it- it was just unexpected. What else did Shane used to do… He shoved the pack down before Shane even realized it had been seen- as his eyes were thankfully on the road- minding the pedestrians. 

Ryan hastily plugged in his phone, still somewhat nervous for almost causing what might have been an uncomfortable conversation.

“Ah-“ His finger hovered over his niche options, “Do you like post-soviet synth?”

The second that sentence left his mouth every bone in his body turned into regret. What kind of asshole says something like that- What journey in his life had led him to believe that was an okay string of words to ever leave his mouth?

Shane turned to him- his expression raised. “You-“ He paused in disbelief, “You listen to Doomer music?”

“Doomer-” Ryan repeated, trying to sound familiar but failing.

“Yeah Doomer-“ Shane continued, “Anti-establishment Sovietwave- freaky and dark stuff- but catchy- heckin catchy.” He spoke with familiarity as if he could probably lecture at length about it.

“So-“ Ryan’s finger was still uncertainly hanging over the play button, “Is that a yes?”

“Well- yeah- why not?” Shane said, shaking his head, “I mean how’d you get mixed up in that- I’d never thought you’d be one to think like that you know- like the world’s going to end and there’s nothing we can do but wait for it- resources will dry up- the apocalypse- grim nihilism-“ Shane threw his hands out, before turning to him again, “I mean well most of it’s just Reddit bullshit- fucking cesspool dwellers- but at the same time like- you know that the average life span of a man in Russia is only 65?”

“65?” Ryan said, pressing play, the seemingly happy synth notes now blasting through the car.

“Yeah 65- fucking Kafkaesque- the life over there,“ Shane sighed, “That’s why the Russian shit is the good shit- well as good Doomer type stuff gets- cause shit sucks over there. It’s real. They got it terrible- everyone drinks and smokes- y’know killing themselves.”

Ryan watched his profile for a while. Killing themselves…

“Sorry- I didn’t give you a chance before- but how was is that you got on to this?” Shane seemed expectant, maybe even a bit concerned, but there was an eagerness in his eyes that implied he had something to say and was only waiting for Ryan to give him the sign to say it.

“I well- to be honest I didn’t know about that-“ Ryan finally admitted, “I just found it one day and thought it slaps.”

“Oh-“ Something in Shane’s voice crumbled a bit. “Well-“ He smiled, “It does slap.”

The eagerness vanished- the signs had been wrong.

“You used to listen to this?” Ryan urged.

“Oh yeah- along with some other stuff-“ Shane said distantly while turning the wheel of the car, “It was kind of a background noise for several seasons.”

Ryan bit his lip- a thousand questions ready to pour from it, “Why’d you stop?”

“Got bored,” Shane said with a certain distraction, “Got tired…”

There was a brief wordless moment. Shane’s vision trained ahead- unmoving- unstirring- evasive. The music was deafening now.

“Actually,” Ryan suddenly said, “Do you mind if I switch it- I know I just put it on- but I just thought of something else.”

“Oh- go right ahead,”

Ryan knew he wasn’t terribly good at reading people- however- he could hear the notes of relief in Shane’s voice. There had been a conversation carefully stepped around.

Tired…

Ryan pressed play on the other niche choice- a Portuguese fusion album from the ’70s. The swelling earthy tones of the deep base and the breezy vocals instantly corrected the atmosphere. Countering the nasty vibes with good ones. Shane seemed pleased, bouncing his hand up and down on the wheel to the beat.

“Man this is funky as hell,” Shane laughed, with an exuberance that suggested the previous events be forgotten in favor of the current ones.

“Yeah- it’s pretty fun to bop around to while cleaning- or just like vibing to it,“ Ryan's eyes flickered for a moment, watching Shane as he drove along happily dancing.

_Nearest to the thorn that I am._

As the second song of the album faded out, they came to halt. They had arrived, and the real events of the day were to begin. The Prelude was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So!! interesting developments :))))))))))))
> 
> Also if anyone is curious about sovietwave (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eAj_gqSEgfQ) I'm not a doomer personally but it slaps severely


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEP!! thank so much for all the lovely support and feedback I really cherish it you guys and it means so so much. This chapter was a bit of a doozy to work through but I got it done!!! Also- apologies to anyone from Chicago- I have never been and I'm not trying to dunk on you guy's city or anything >_> it's just for the narrative. 
> 
> As always I hope you enjoy!!! :DDD

The parking was crowded, and they had to walk a ways down the bent side streets that lined the area around the old square. They walked close- but not too close- not close enough for onlookers to have any sort of ideas. Still, Ryan felt an impulse to hold onto Shane’s hand- to grab onto his arm- but that… that was something serious. Smothering each other in a secluded doorway was one thing. But hand-holding? Hand holding was another game- heck another sport entirely. Holding implied the possibility of permanence- of not letting go. As the ever brightening rays of the sun beat down on them, Ryan thought of the summer. Shane had wanted to know where he was going to be during the summer. But what about after that…

Ryan looked ahead at Shane, who was happily and coolly walking ahead of him towards the outskirts of the market. As Shane moved the warm wind gently blew the cottony folds of his shirt against his body, outlining his silhouette against the orange light. Ryan’s collar felt too tight. The air was too thick. He was struggling to explain himself- cope with his thoughts. It was just- fuck- he was so dreamy… And the tender ache filled him again.

After that… Ryan wanted every summer after that…

“Are these usually packed affairs?” Shane said wistfully,

“Huh?” Ryan said, lost in the wilds of his own longings.

“It’s just like look at it,” He gestured ahead, “Do people really turn out with all their wares like it’s the middle ages?”

“What?” Ryan scrunched his face, forced back into reality with this sudden development, “What do you mean you have never been to- What kind of-“ He almost said gay are you but that- that no- not good taste, “What kind of small business- underground film- and culture aficionado are you?”

Shane raised his brow with a playful skepticism, “Aficionado?”

“Well,” Ryan bit his tongue, trying not to launch into all the things he knew about him, “From what I have seen- what I know- you have good taste.”

“And markets are in good taste?” Shane put his hand over his mouth as if he didn’t know- as if he didn’t have an opinion.

Was this a trap? Shane definitely had opinions- too many to be exact.

“I-“ Ryan struggled for a moment, “Yes- I do- I do think they are.”

“Then that explains it,” Shane sighed, “I’m not a man of taste. You’ll have to teach me.”

His eyes flicked down from behind his yellow shades at Ryan with a hint of provocativeness. Was he- was this- Ryan’s collar felt even tighter. Teach me? What in the hell did-

“Look!“ Shane exclaimed, suddenly pointing to a guitarist playing on a distant street corner, “A minstrel- how delightful!”

Ryan’s suggestive line of thought skidded to a halt- the tonal shift hitting him like whiplash. Exasperating. Exhausting. He couldn’t take this. More of it and he would have to sit down. Just who exactly was this jackass that he had decided to fall in- ah- deep attraction with.

“I’m beginning to think you have never been outside.” He scoffed,

“Well-“ Shane rested his hands on his hips, continuing to survey the street, “I am a Midwest boy- but I’m also a city boy- so outside I guess was a limited idea- never much partook in it.”

“Don’t they have like social events in Chicago?”

“Oh yeah-“ He hummed, his expression peaking, “They’ve got traffic, corruption, drugs, and depression,”

The delivery was unnervingly smooth- the tone entirely deadpan and bleak. Ryan gave him a look- what kind of look he didn’t know- but he knew there was one- he couldn’t help it. Shane nervously put his hand behind his neck and laughed- aware and regretful.

“I’m just joshing ya-“ He smiled, reaching over and giving Ryan’s shoulder a pat, “I just haven’t been to the market here is all- and well- the vibes are completely different. A lot more- ah- festive- yeah- festive.” His eyes scanned along the street of stalls, “More fair like then anything I’ve seen. There's markets about where I’m from- but think more like humid little tents crowded on top of one another with the ever-present odor of fish on ice- or some other foul nonsense. Not especially good. Not especially relevant.”

Ryan regarded him suspiciously- unsure. Visions of Shane cooped up- smoking- in a dark and lonely apartment blasting communist grunge music were coming to his mind. He bit his cheek in thought. The Soviet specific literature was becoming a hell of a lot more relevant now- insane notions arising. Phrases like “neo-Marxism” produced themselves. Yes, the meaninglessness of life- the elitism of hating things- Shane’s rankly successful and intellectual life in contrast to his own…

“Oh look, honey!” Shane cried.

Ryan’s pulse jumped in his ears- his attention fully and violently regained. Honey? Had Shane just called him-

“Oh,” Ryan creaked, as Shane descended upon a table boasting glorious glass jugs of it- the special comb in type as well. “Honey…”

Nicknames were probably too plebian. Silly. He crumpled.

“Just look at these suckers!” Shane said, excitedly rubbing his hands together like some type of fiend, eagerly going through the jars and twisting them in the light. “Do you think we can find some scones and make a brunch of it?”

He looked over at Ryan elated and honestly engaged- lost in the idea of constructing a fantastic meal- of a fantastic day. Ryan stepped over and picked up a jar- “Hank’s Open Field Wild-Flower Raw Honey” it read in crooked handwritten letters. Ryan’s shoulders softened, a warm feeling washing over him, the crooked handwriting reminding him of someone else’s crooked handwriting…

“Sure-“ Ryan said, shyly smiling at the idea of them together, “I think there should be some bakeshops around the corner and maybe we can pitch ourselves a place at the pavilion.”

“Pavilion?” Shane glowed- his face jumping with that same spark- that same life flow- that had pierced through Ryan so many times before. It was to die for.

“Yes- ah-“ Ryan fussed, pointing in some vague direction, not able to look away, “It’s were those local people are going to be playing.”

“Oh yes- the music-” Shane nodded, making a busy selection of one of the jars and dealing with the vendor, “Do you know when that begins?”

“Noon I think,” 

“Noon,” Shane sounded it out, taking the paper bag. “That should be more than enough time for us to go around and have a peek at everything before we eat.” He waved the bag in the air,” We can get together maybe some blueberries too- perhaps some cheese- heck we could rummage around for perhaps a wine- you said there was a tasting.”

“Yes,” Ryan said,

“Well good we can go and do that and then,” He rubbed his mouth in thought, “Well then we can sort ourselves out a spot- and- and have a- ah,” His hand stilled on his mouth tenuously- as if he shouldn’t say what he was about to say, “A good time?”

Ryan froze and his face became hot. Good time- the yelling- the kissing- God-

“If-“ Shane’s hand dropped to his neck, “If- that is you didn’t have any other plans. I know that- well you are the one that really invited me here- I guess it’s kind of rich for me to just hijack this whole thing like that. I know I can be kind of well-“ He crumbled the roll of the bag down, “Intense...”

“You can be?” Ryan pleaded,

Shane grew a bit pale- as if he wished that he was wearing tinted dark glasses instead of the almost clear ones he was wearing. “I-“ He averted his eyes around as if looking for another random guitarist to point out to change the conversation, “I- well I can be- intense that is-“ He sounded almost guilty about it, “I don’t tend to do things in half measures I guess and I can be a pest about things. I just want to make sure that I’m not running over your toes or anything and that we do also what you want to do…”

There was a pause. How was it he simultaneously was the shyest, smuggest, most arrogant, and most humble person Ryan had ever met.

“This is what I want to do,” Ryan said,

“It is?”

“Yes,” Ryan whispered, not knowing why he was doing so.

“Yes…” Shane whispered back.

The clatter of the market around them only made it quieter now.

“I think the wine tasting is down the street,” Ryan mentioned,

Shane didn’t seem to hear him.

“We can pick out something.”

“Oh-“ Shane awakened from his trance, “Sure- why don’t- why don’t you lead the way,” He held out his hand in front of him sweepingly.

Ryan smiled softly, his whole person slowly incinerating. If Shane just opened up and let it all out- he could take it- he knew he could- he wanted too… because… because fuck he could barely hold himself together much longer. If Shane thought he was intense- he clearly didn’t know what had been going on in his own mind. He knew that he would more than take it- he would match it. And if Shane stopped holding back he wouldn’t either and it would be a firestorm and he knew it. And how Ryan wondered if Shane knew it as well- or if perhaps Shane's idea of “intense” meant something different from his. Could it be that their lexicon differed- maybe that was what this was about- understanding or the potential lack of it.

What if his intense meant brutally facing the world- and what he thought that Ryan couldn’t do it- wouldn’t understand things as he did. Was that what he was going to say in the car… how he faced the world… just to find out that Ryan didn’t see it the same way- wasn’t even aware of it… and was just listening along and being entertained by happy sounds…

And so, they were polite again with each other, as they walked around collecting their goods in the crowding market. And it was a strange period of existence- with overtones of being something that would be remembered later- thought about- crystallized. It was something to be preserved.

And despite what he had said about having no taste, Shane was exquisite at shopping. His every suggestion seemed pre-curated and thoughtful as it was murmured between them. There was almost nothing he didn’t seem to know about- which was strange considering his assertion that he had never been to a market like this before. He knew what things were in season. He knew what type of bread went with what type of toppings. He knew how to talk to the stall owners. He was brilliant- so brilliant in fact Ryan was left wondering what on earth he could “teach” him about- because he certainly didn’t need his help in navigating this place nor most likely any other. 

Shane knew what he was doing- even if he was trying to hide it. They would approach a table and Shane would sort of hang back and wait for Ryan to pick something out and then he would advise accordingly. He was being very behaved, clearly wanting this to go well. And in that wanting, Ryan started to believe that perhaps he did understand what Shane meant about being intense- or at least a facet of it. Because it was intense- the attentiveness that he was giving him and the obvious amount of intelligence that was swirling around behind Shane's unassuming eyes.

Ryan almost felt as though he didn’t deserve it- to be here with him- to be treated with this much subtle care. Honestly. He wasn’t the one who needed to be impressed. He wasn’t the one to be cared for. That was Shane- and he knew it was- he knew that he had to- he knew that he wanted to- but there was no stray end to latch on to. Shane was a smooth surface. Giving him everything but nothing at the same time. And Ryan felt a confusing mix of surreal levels of happiness and fear.

He was beginning to think he hated mysteries- or at least he hated the waiting.

Their bags now full of more food then they could possibly eat, they wandered down the sunny sidewalk through the arts section on their way to the Pavilion. Shane’s eyes trailed along at the displays- before stopping at a booth where there was a woman taking orders for small oil paintings. Ryan saw a brief and impulsive thought flash in Shane’s eyes.

Immediately, Ryan recalled his original intentions to get something for Shane here- and now finally- something of consequence-

“Ever had your picture painted big guy.” Ryan lowered his glasses- trying to be persuasive. 

“What do I look like-“ Shane said dryly, “Some fancy boy- a child king?”

Shane’s mouth turned up in a wry smile while he struck a pompous pose. Ryan giggled- loudly- the stress and the absolute ridiculousness of Shane’s behavior overtaking him. It took a while but Shane laughed too- relaxing. The air was back to normal- or whatever the air was before the whole situation previous.

“I’m serious- it could be fun,” Ryan smirked,

Shane turned a bit pink. “What now like this?” He looked down at himself with disgust as if he hadn’t been trying to flex that exact outfit on Ryan earlier.

“Come on-“ Ryan shrugged, walking over to the booth, “It’ll be fun- I’ll get you one,”

Shane reluctantly and bashfully followed. It was like he didn’t know how drop-dead handsome he was. Literally every angle was a good angle.

As they approached the lady looked up with her cheery paint-covered face. “So, which one of you guys wants to be immortalized today!”

“I can’t- really,” Shane messed with his shirt collar, “I’m not- this isn’t my best- and I-“

“Never worry- I can work from photos too you know,”

“Hear that-“ Ryan gloated, “Photos too,”

Shane became even pinker- but also seemed intrigued by Ryan’s insistence.

“I don’t really have photos of myself,” Shane admitted.

“If you have an Instagram or something? I can just pull it from here,” The lady took out her phone and demonstrated the ease of this plan.

“Hey-“ Ryan snapped his fingers. “Your cat’s insta,”

Shane blinked at him. “Yes- ah my cat- I don’t have- uh- any social media- right…”

Shitttt. Ryan’s ears rang with the horrific sound of how hard he had just fucked up. No social media. Of course, he knew that Shane had no social media. All of it was either scrubbed clean, ancient, or deactivated. The only thing he had found was a small insta page of Shane’s cat Obi through poking around on the “following” list on Calypso’s insta. Some deep level stalking shit. And if Ryan had gone through those lengths to find Obi’s Instagram- which he had- it was obvious that he had found out everything else too.

Shane was talking with the lady- directing her to the insta in question- and selecting out a photo. He was taking it calmly. Not throwing a fuss at all. Which was almost more unnerving then if he did throw a fuss.

“I took a lot of orders today,” The lady said, “I try to get paintings turned around relatively quickly- but I’m so backlogged I don’t think I will be able to complete this one today. Would it be okay if one of y’all came by my shop ‘The Sleeping Lizard’ to pick it up later this week?”

“That’s fine- That’s fine,” Ryan assured, not particularly interested in the painting anymore, “Can I just put down my number and you can just text me whenever it’s done.”

“Sure- Sure- Just put it down there,” She handed him the clipboard and Ryan filled it out with all the necessary info and payment was exchanged. There was no more reason to hang around in the booth- nothing more to do to avoid talking about it.

Ryan slunk back out on to the street where Shane was waiting for him.

“Thank-you so much Ryan,” Shane said, seeming to be actually touched instead of angry- or well any grab bag of emotions he could have been. “I would have never thought to get a painting of the orange boy- and he’s like the only thing I kept too-“ He paused, “I sold everything else except the car.”

Ryan hung on to every word- waiting for something to come- some chastisement- some outburst. While it was all online- all open to be found- he couldn’t help but feel like he had betrayed some trust. Shane hadn’t wanted him to know and he had gone and looked anyway. He should have allowed Shane to tell him in his own time instead of sneaking around.

His lip shook a bit, “I hope it turns out well- but Obi so cute I can’t imagine it turning out- uh- any other way,”

Shane didn’t do anything but look at him with an acute tenderness that made Ryan feel as if he was going to die right there on the spot.

“Let’s-“ Shane moved in a bit closer, “Let’s go eat,”

Ryan’s eyes widened as Shane's hand reached out from his side and gathered Ryan's hand into his own, weaving their fingers together and holding him securely and acceptingly.

“Shall we,” Shane pointed with his head down the street.

“Yeah-“ Ryan sighed, letting go of the breath he was holding.

And together they walked hand in hand to the Pavilion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :DDDDDD cat's out of the bag?????


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowowowwo :DDDDDDDD thank so much for being so so kind and supportive!!! This chapter is pretty longggg and honestly made me feel so many things as I was writing it- I'm just honestly so excited to get this point in the story because I feel like I can start to really explore their dynamic!!!!!
> 
> As alwayyyyys thank you so much for reading and a the kudos (over 150 that's insane!!!) and for your lovely feedback!!!!! ENjoy! :D

Upon coming to the large white tent that was staked onto the green stretch of grass in front of the old courthouse building, Ryan felt his breath catching in his throat. His hand was still in Shane’s and Shane had not said a word about it- about what had happened. It didn’t seem like he was going to either. In fact, he didn’t even seem upset.

Ryan knew he should be anxious- that he should be worried- that once the day was through that perhaps things might get ugly- that Shane might just be waiting for the anonymity that comes with distance to get mad. And that he would go home and go to sleep and wake up the next morning to some frigid text akin to “it was nice to see you” but “I will never see you again.” It was like a gut reaction to feel and think that way. But he wasn’t and he didn’t. The physical impulse was there- the flutters and the nerves- but at the same time, Shane felt safe.

With every moment that passed with his hand in Shane’s, he knew that Shane was more than just casually accepting. He was okay with it and maybe even thankful. He just didn’t want to say it. And that was fine. It was enough that something had happened to loosen the lid on Ryan’s boiling pot of questions. He could live for much longer now knowing that Shane knew that he knew. Because that was something- maybe even akin to trust- a pact to not say anything until the other was ready.

They came into the Pavilion that was lined with long picnic tables like some makeshift beer hall- this was by no coincidence as Ryan highly suspected that this was the exact same set up that had been installed for last Oktoberfest- just with a different paint job. It was quaint and fun and it would do. But then Ryan also suspected anywhere with Shane would do. He was becoming sappy again- he could feel it around the edges of his eyes. The poetry was still floating around in him.

“How about here?” Shane said, finally letting go of Ryan’s hand and setting down their stuff at the end of one of the long tables.

“Don’t you want to be closer to the stage?” Ryan said, glancing down the at least bowling alley length that stretched between them and the stage in question.

“I just-“ Shane rubbed his fingers together, “Well bands can be rather loud- and I mean no offense to whatever homegrown talent that will shortly be wheeling in here- it’s just well I thought it would be quieter here at the end of the table- and it would be easier to talk.”

To talk. Oh my- maybe- did he- was he going to say something about it after all. Ryan straightened. Perhaps Shane was better at hiding his emotions then he thought- secretly furious. The gut reflexes were taking over- mainly in his throat.

“Sure,” Ryan nodded, putting on his best everything’s okay face, “Makes a lot of sense.”

Shane smiled and began to unload the bag. Seeing it all out, Ryan was surprised at how much they had actually gotten. It made a full Parisian looking spread. It was so good looking that Ryan wondered what he had been doing before when he had bummed around at the market. He had never been able to come up with something like that.

“Did you read a book on this as well,” Ryan wondered as he pulled his leg over the bench and sat down, 

“You can’t read a book for something like this,” Shane said with a tone, while making a motion of offense.

“Oh- I’m-“ The knot in his throat swelled, “I didn’t mean-“

“Of course, I read a book,” Shane hushed, “Do I look like someone that knows jack about this stuff? I barely started cooking a couple of months ago. I definitely didn’t know the essence of fine dining. I just did what everyone else did when it came to that. I would just bungle around life ordering things and then being disappointed when I hated them,” He picked up a cracker and smeared on a helping of fig jam, “It was just rather unfortunate- the amount I didn’t know- and if I know anything now it is only by great effort and chance,”

Ryan looked at him. He must have appeared to be as distressed as he was feeling because Shane stopped assembling his cracker and made a micro-expression of concern.

“I’m not a serious guy. I’m actually a real goof.” Shane continued, “A pile of bits and pieces. I don’t think I would even qualify to be ‘one of God’s own mutants’- even though you could say I resemble that idea in some ways. Mainly, the mutant part.” Shane made a half-hearted smirk and resumed making his cracker, adding some soft cheese.

Ryan’s physical anxious reaction stalled with confusion. Why Shane was telling him this- he didn’t know. His mind was blank with what to say but- but “one of God’s own mutants,” he had heard that before. No, read that before. It sounded like… January? His eyes widened- _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_. The second book in January.

“Too weird to live too rare to die,” Ryan said the foggy memory of the passage coming back to him like a distant dream. “Hunter S. Thompson,”

Shane hummed with acknowledgment but didn’t say anything else. If this was an admission to being “S” it wasn’t a very strong one- if it was an admission at all. It was Shane’s shop after all. And it was a pretty landmark work of well- criticism- _Fear and Loathing_ that is. Criticism against the American dream would definitely be in Shane’s realm of influence. Ryan took a grape. Under normal circumstances he would have been jumping at even a shred of evidence- and the implications therein- but he was overloaded. The juice in his overactive mind was already fizzling too loud. It was enough to be here and try to take things as they came at him.

Tonight. Yes, tonight. That would be when he would dissect and freak out about what it could mean. He made a mental note of it in his mind- Panic at eleven. That was a normal thing to do. He was an organized adult.

“So about you-“ Shane began, satisfied that he had explained whatever nebulous point he had been making previously, “You said something that has been nagging at the back of my noggin ever since you said it,”

Shane didn't sound like he meant it in a negative way- nagging- but Ryan’s voice cracked anyway on it’s own accord.

“What-“ Ryan coughed on his cracker, “What was that?”

Shane leaned back in thought, “You said that you were no good at writing stories,”

Ryan coughed harder- reaching for his glass. “I mean-“ He forced a sip, “I’m really not- They- You wouldn’t want to hear about it I promise. It’s not for me to talk about- definitely not for you to listen to.”

“Oh balderdash,” Shane insisted, rising forward on the table, “You explained yourself to me- about film and analysis and everything,”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well you told me how you came to be here- or well generally- and you told me about why you like to do what you do- TA and all of that- and it was good- really good,”

Ryan peered over his glass, his brow furrowing. “What are you getting at with this?”

Shane popped an olive in his mouth with finality, “I think you can.”

“Can what?”

“Tell stories, of course,” He leaned even further across the table as if proximity would make him better understood.

Ryan felt his ears get hot. “I-“ His thoughts were everywhere, “I- there’s nothing in what I said about myself that would have that- those implications.”

Shane eased on to his elbows, “Why do you think that? Don’t you find it compelling- because-” Shane’s eyeline danced around in the air, “ Because I found it compelling…”

“Compelling?” Ryan’s foreboding had melted into utter bewilderment.

“All I’m saying- and I know it’s invasive and asinine and underlyingly arrogant and feel free to yell at me or something afterwards for saying it- because- well because I’d deserve it and you’d be within your rights,” Shane cut his already lengthy preamble short, and took another bite of something, “But-“ He stopped to chew, “I- I think maybe that it’s the type of story that you might have been attempting and- and not you- because- well I honestly think you do have something to say. Honestly, I think everyone has something to say. Given, some people more than others and some people are better at it than others- And I know- well that it might not be your so called strength- and that film making might definitely be for you and I honestly-“ He paused for breath, “Well- you said you loved it and that- well that’s fucking priceless- considering how little of that there is around in this economy. But-“ He pushed his hair back from his face and held his hand on top of his head for a while. “Well I don't even know what the hell I’m driving at. It’s just been something that’s been sitting there- that I have been thinking about- that you said you were bad at it. I mean being good- or even better- at something else doesn’t mean that you are by default bad at the other thing- I mean you can do both- so why not both…”

Shane’s sights finally rounded the full circuit of what there was to look at and finally came back down to rest on Ryan, whom had been struggling to absorb it all.

“But I guess…” Shane recoiled into himself, “I guess what I’m really driving at is that I’m doubtful. It's- It’s just that I can’t honestly and truly imagine you sucking at something like that. I really can’t- not when you’re so well-” He busied himself by making another cracker, “-compelling…” He shoved the cracker in his mouth.

Ryan’s mind was a jumble- his words too. Compelling. What does that even mean- Fuck- Fuck- He could feel his whole body betraying him, as he transformed into a melting mess of a man. Sweaty palms and twitchy fingers- as wild eyed vibes surrounded the table.

“How-“ His voice sounded strange to him- detached, “How did you come-“ He tried to produce a normal register and not the quaky shit coming from his mouth, “How did you come to that conclusion?”

Shane twisted the wine in his cup, “I’m just of that opinion,” He took a sip plainly.

“That’s it?” Ryan exclaimed, more desperately than he had hoped, “No argument for it- no evidence-“

“Evidence?” Shane raised his brow and pointed at him directly, “Evidence.”

“No- No-“ Ryan shook his head violently, “No! Just it’s not- I’m not- it’s not that easy,”

Shane shrugged off handedly, “I didn’t say it was,”

A second elapsed. Shane gagged on his drink- the words he had just said finally catching up to his brain.

“I-“ He held his hand out in a cautionary way, “I- I didn’t mean that I’m- well- I’m-“ He rigidly tried to settle himself down, “I just thought we could talk about it- because- well- I’m curious. I just- I just wanna know… know what you wrote about…”

Ryan’s color washed out of him. Of all the conversations he had anticipated having- this was not one of them. The idea of Shane wanting to know about that of all things was mind boggling. But it was clear that no matter how boggling it was Shane really did want to hear it. And for better or worse Ryan knew that he had to tell him.

“There isn’t- and I mean really fucking isn’t- much to know,” He sighed, still wrestling with the topic, “I poked around several genres- non-fiction docudrama type stuff- some basic thriller in the vein of a knock off David Fincher- and some other stuff…”

Shane squinted for a moment, “Why were you writing about that- what interested you?”

Ryan shook out his mind- dusty answers falling out of the nooks and crannies. “I thought that if that was the stuff that I liked to consume then that was the stuff I would like to put out there.”

“Did you have a favorite?” Shane mentioned while cutting open one of the scones, “One that was closest to you- that you wrote?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan said, the question sitting with him like a rock through a wet paper towel, “I don’t think ever I had one… maybe that was sort of the problem…” He tapped his fingers on the tabletop, “It’s funny- I’d never really stopped to think about that.”

“If you had a favorite?”

“Yeah- No.” Ryan's fingers stopped tapping, “I mean I know which one is the ‘best’ and I think I could probably rank them- but- in regards to it being my favorite… I don’t- I really don’t think I have one,”

“This isn’t some-“ Shane spread on a dab of honey, “Some I love and hate all my children equally type of scam is it?”

“What-“ Ryan shook his head, “No- No- It’s not that I just- I just don’t feel it for any of them,”

“So best in your mind is distinct from favorite?” Shane hummed, before taking a bite.

“Yes,” Ryan said, hoping that was the correct answer, feeling like he was definitely getting pulled way way outside of his intellectual depth. Sharks could be about. Anything could come for him. He’d been blindsided some many times today it was becoming predictable- how little he could anticipate what was coming next.

Shane nodded thoughtfully, oblivious of Ryan’s worries, “And you feel something for film- you favor it over writing?”

Far off the band began to tune up. Some man with a beard came up to the mic and the sound of his voice crackled through the tent.

“Yes,” Ryan said again, as inside him a cloud of different realizations gathered. It was just a hunch but- better mark two appointments for panic tonight- back to back.

Something in Shane’s posture read differently. He was thinking of something. “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Your favorite from your best?”

Shane posed it casually, but Ryan felt himself short out. His brain was being stretched and something was getting pulled up within him. It was uncomfortable- near excruciating. Something about the way Shane was looking at him- expecting him to have an answer- was making him feel as though he didn’t and that he couldn’t say for certain. It was like he didn’t know himself- didn’t know for himself- and didn’t know the reasons for why he was doing what he was doing.

“Don't you know-“ Ryan cut, “You’re the one that asked me?”

Shane’s expression froze. Ryan felt sick.

“I’m sorry- I didn-“

“No,” Shane soothed, “It’s okay- I was- I was being prying- I know it- I just was being-“

“No you weren’t-“ 

“Yes- Yes I was,” Shane shook his hands, “Way out of line- on my part-“

“No- it’s not you- it's-” The realizations were closing in on him, “-It’s just that…” Ryan felt it sitting bitterly on the tip of his tongue, “I don’t really know,” He ran his hand down his thighs, “I mean I think my worst films are better then my best scripts- and that’s rewarding- so- so that’s something I guess- something- and it’s a piece of it. And you’re right I do love it but- like I said- but I learned to love it. It’s not like it was something easy to do- even though I knew I needed to do it- to do film instead of writing.” His eyes fell to the table’s surface- resting on the pot of honey- studying the waxy folds of the comb. “Actually… I almost think that knowing that I needed to do it made it worse. Because there’s nothing that people tend to hate more than doing the necessary thing…”

From the stage on the other end of the tent, the band began playing a bluesy folk rhythm. The music soaked in around them and the others in the room, filling what otherwise would have been a silent moment.

Shane rested forward on the table, his soft voice somehow cutting through the noise, “I asked you because I don’t know- not because I do. There are some things I guess we can't know- or at least we don't know yet- and that's just how it is. You know waiting for... I don't know... just waiting for something.”

Ryan, who had been transfixed on the honey, finally turned his face upwards to Shane’s. And as he did so he understood what Shane had meant earlier by “compelling” because there was no other word to describe the way Shane was looking at him.

“Do you think you will ever try writing again,” Shane asked, gently.

“I’m… not sure,” Ryan murmured, “Given the time… and the opportunity… I might start again- start over.”

Shane slid his hand over and softly stroked the back of Ryan’s hand. All was understood. In Shane’s touch Ryan knew it- that there was more to it that just this conversation- and additionally that this conversation would have never have happened if he hadn’t messed up and let it slip that he knew. It was intricately linked to it- a butterfly effect.

The music played on in the background and it was surprisingly good for “homegrown talent” as Shane had put it. And before it seemed that any time had passed at all most of the afternoon slipped away between the rest of the food and the rest of the bands that filtered in. Inside the tent, even though they couldn’t see it they could feel it- the late afternoon summertime storm gathering. The humidity hung in thick pools in the air and made the hair on the sides of Shane’s temples curl ever so slightly. It was time to consider leaving for the high and dry ground.

There wasn’t too much to pack surprisingly. Nervous eating- perhaps- or Ryan’s innate need to consume whatever was in front of him until it was gone- had diminished the feast into a few crumbs, half a jar of olives, and the honey. They had gotten the wine by the glass and that had too long since been drained. But still- even with so little to get together they ended up stalling- stalling until the rain did come- falling in heavy loud drops on the roof of the tent.

From the folded flaps of the entranceway, they stood together and looked out onto the deluge that was pummeling the square.

“As I see it,” Shane said like he was planning something akin to a bank robbery, “We have two options- One we just dash like mad for the car- weather be fucking damned or-“

“Or?” Ryan interjected.

“Or we try to save our skins by ducking through and around various business along the way,”

“Dashing from awning to awning,”

“Mhmm,”

They continued to watch it pour. It was evident that it would not pass anytime soon. There were no clear paths in sight. The grass was becoming an ocean that was deepening by the second.

“Fuck it-“ Ryan said, suddenly grabbing Shane’s hand, “Let’s just fucking go for it,”

Shane grinned gleefully- like he had been waiting for him to say that. “Alright let’s fucking roll baby,”

Ryan’s face lit up like a firecracker. Baby? _Baby?_ He didn’t have time to meditate on it though because without a second thought Shane- with his stupidly long legs- had already bounded out in front of him- yanking him along and out into the freezing rain. With garden hose like strength, it came down upon them- soaking them within mere seconds to their bones. Bolting together across the slippery and unsure ground, their clothes plastered to them, becoming heavy with the frigid water. Ryan’s breath shook with the running, the cold, and the happiness that was filling up his lungs. Just to sprint hand in fucking hand through this madness- was just- god it was good- like every fucking dream he ever had. Better than anything he had ever done with anybody.

Bolting past all the boarded-up stalls, they finally hit the side road they had come upon. The sound of their wet shoes pattering against the pavers of the downtown street reverberated into their ears as the streetlights turned on. Winded and giggling they fell against the side of his car and scrambled to open the door. Not an inch of dry skin left, they tumbled in and slammed to door behind them. Blinking out the water and sputtering with wheezing laughter they collapsed back in their seats.

Shane turned on the car and flicked on the heated seats- shivering like a mad man.

“You’ve got heated seats?” Ryan blustered trying vainly to straighten himself out. “What kind of mogul are you?”

“Imagine this but snow-“ He replied shaking out his hair, and gathering it back at the nape of his neck, “Snow up past your fucking door- you’d be crazy not to opt for it- hell I’d rather they’d gave me heated seats then a- I don’t know- some fucking shit like surround sound or that fucking two pixel back up camera.”

He pulled the car out of park, noticing that the traffic was starting to build up as other people were starting to take their own chances with the rain.

“Can you-“ He pulled out his phone- unlocking it quickly before handing it to a surprised Ryan, “Can you- put on driving mix?”

“Driving mix-“

“Yeah just go to my Spotify- it’s the one with the,” He turned behind him as he backed up out of the parallel parking space, “It’s first track is something from Stuck in the Sound…”

Ryan fumbled with the phone, wiping off his hands several times to navigate it. The background pic was of Obi- no surprises there. After some flipping back and forth he found Spotify and cruised through the list of playlists. His eyes darted around at their rather- err- interesting names. _Bad Vibes. Sad Shit. New Finds. Alt Nonsense. Slaps. Classical BS. Shop Music. Driving Mix._ Ryan controlled his intense need to snoop and tapped on the requested mix. Pulsing guitar riffs instantly filled the car, and they took off down the street.

Shane was insanely good at navigating the tight pinches of traffic and with almost no trouble at all they navigated through the jam and out onto the main road. The rain sloshed up against the sides of the low riding car as the music continued to flow. Ryan ran his hands against his sopping wet pants- as he looked out the window at the drenched landscape of the campus coming into view. Goose-bumps covered his skin. 

"How long do you think it'll last?" Shane said, 

"You mean the rain?" Ryan murmured, loose ideas jumping around under his skin. 

"Yes- the rain," Shane repeated, rolling the car up the steep hill that ran the length of the campus, "It's odd isn't it- for it still to be this wet and cold. You'd think that it was February." 

"Or Septemeber..." 

The library and the center lawn glided by and in the blurred distance flashes of umbrellas sticking out from the under the eves of the buildings dotted the landscape with impressionistic color. 

"Yes," Shane exhaled, "It was rainy last September wasn't it- gloomy- I didn't know many people then. I had only the shop you know- and that barely felt like mine at the time," 

Ryan turned over to him as the car came to a rest in the side parking lot of the dorm. 

"Does it feel like your's now?" 

Shane laid his hands against the wheel. The steady rain now overpowered the music. Beads of water ran down from his damp and tousled hair onto his cheek, tracing hazy patterns down to his jawline. His head was bent down, and his profile was soft in the defused and grey light. 

"I’m- I'm not sure,” He said, before tilting his head upwards and letting out a labored sigh. His hands dropped from the wheel and into his lap, as he stole a quick glance in Ryan's direction, "It's like you said- given the time... You know I've already received the opportunity... so... I guess it's really just that first part. Time."

It became apparent once more- locked in every subtle shape and point of his body- every muscle- both tense and lax- how hard he was trying and how trying was hard on him. Time seemed like a promise but it sounded like fear. As if time had been a threat before and even now in it's passing, it still held a familiar edge. 

Not daring to even pause himself for a moment, Ryan reached over and took his face into his hands, and drew him into a brash and warm kiss. Ryan could feel himself starting to pour everything out into him. In every motion- every stroke of hair and cheek- he just let it go and flow from deep inside his chest. He could feel Shane becoming overwhelmed under his touch, pouring over with yet unspoken things- bottled up desires and needs. And then those things became translated into gestures back, as Shane began to pull Ryan closer and closer- their body heat burning up against one another through their still wet clothes. 

Shaking, shivering, and entangled they clung to each other in the car. Brief thoughts of invitations hung about, as well as visions of dark rooms and warm covers. But there was still a newness to it- an innocence that seemed sacrilegious to break. There was time for- well there was time...

Ryan finally peeled himself away, both flushed and freezing. "I'll see you soon," 

Shane's whole aura was a daze, but he managed a slightly tipsy smile, "You better," 

Ryan slowly edged the door open and got out of the car. He didn't want to run inside- to leave Shane so soon- but he had forgotten how fucking icy the storm was- bitter against him. Once inside the hall and finally safe in his dorm, he peeled off his clothes and stumbled into a hot shower and let the heat pour over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew- that was a journey- also can I get any more apparent how much I freaking love rain??? probably not-
> 
> Also!! btw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=52Gg9CqhbP8 (for the stuck in the sound song i was thinking of)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you soooooo much for reading and all the love <3333333 It means so so much like honestly ahdvjkwhlrj!!!!!!
> 
> This chapter is another Ryan dealing with himself chapter <33333 so not much action but a lot of feels- he's working stuff out!!! 
> 
> also song shout out for this chpt. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-oERBst8L0

After he had finished his shower, gotten dressed, and fallen into his bed for an unexpectedly deep nap, he arose some minutes before six. Yes, fucking up your sleep schedule with reading, pining, poetry, crying and stalking for a week was enough to cause your body to betray you in the most fowl ways- like two hour-long naps that will now surely ensure that you are up all night. Crazy how that works- like sleep is a necessity.

Ryan groaned, twisting around. He rolled over and something thunked loudly against the wall. It was his arm- deader than a fish on supermarket ice. Somehow he'd fallen asleep in the most awkward and negligent position possible- splayed out like some chalk outlined corpse on the bed.

There is something about unscheduled naps that both make them the best and the worst to take. On one hand, they are the deepest fucking naps you’ll ever have in your life due to their interruptive and pull-damn-the-plug-out on you nature. But on the other hand- yes- on the fucking other hand- manifesting with them like it’s a part of some karmic devil’s bargain is the awful disorientation. The “what year is it” feeling and the anxiety of what could have been possibly missed during this windfall of exhaustion collecting on your sweat covered face.

The latter was mainly how he was experiencing things now. At first, his arm didn’t feel a thing- but now the hot feeling of life was beginning to ring up it again. It hurt to move. It hurt to lie still. He rolled out of the bed. Catching himself against the floor, he rested up against the side of it and fumbled for the switch to his floor lamp- which eventually was found.

With a click, the room awakened instantly. Ryan, however, took a bit longer than an instant. The rain was still falling outside of his window. Would it last till tomorrow?

He picked up his phone, whose screen he had seen briefly while still up on the mattress, and squinted his eyes.

5:35 AM

AM- His eyes instantly sparked up- AM? How fucking long had that “nap” been- ten- no fucking fourteen hours? Jesus Christ. The disorientation deepened. Till tomorrow- it was fucking tomorrow. What had he even dreamed about to fill that time- nothing- apparently. It was just a black blur of crusty eyed hallucinations and he was in a state now. What that state was- was yet to be determined. He just was in one.

His focus, which had been dispersed, slowly gathered again and he flipped open his phone. He reflexively looked at the messages- expecting something from Shane- but there was nothing. His mood lowered several- horrid- brutal notches and he stared at the empty inbox till his vision became swirly.

Shane wanted to see him again. He probably just didn’t want to seem too eager. Things had been moving fast- or maybe that was just Ryan. Who knows what speed this was for Shane- he was so fucking handsome he probably was used to people falling all over him. Christ. But then why was he so awkward- Why did it seem like he was hurting- Why was he so god damn elusive…

He hadn’t said anything about the articles. Ryan respected that- understood that- for whatever reason that subject was closed. He could at least put all the apprehensions he had about Shane finding out that he knew to rest- but now- now there were other questions. Why was it closed and why was he so silent about it? Was he being silent now…

Ryan had expected something to spill out- something to be explosive- but nothing had come of it or at least nothing so far. There was nothing terrible in what Shane had written. In fact, there were some confusing elements of truth. Ryan didn’t agree with all of it- but some of it stuck like fine splinters under his skin- laying unnoticed until something dragged across them in the wrong direction. Something was dragging across them now.

For someone who had just made out with frankly the hottest man to walk the earth- or at least the only man on the earth that mattered currently- he wasn’t taking it very well. In fact, he was taking it exactly how he took it last time, collapsing into a love-struck pile of mush. It was becoming a pattern- how little he could handle how much he felt for him. It almost hurt- how much love he had bouncing around his body. He was just a human. How was he supposed to hold this- to hold it without cracking- without it all tumbling out or ripping through his veins.

Ryan ran his hand over his face and remembered what he had forgotten to do last night- panic. He had planned to panic- to freak the fuck out over all that had happened- and the implications of what Shane had said- the clues. And right now- at 5 AM in the morning- it seemed as good of a time as any to do so. Better to panic then to well- feel like he had on the balcony that night. And he was dangerously close to that- to breaking down again.

He couldn’t stop for a moment- feelings were lurking to get him. And there was much to think about and much to research. He had told himself profusely- in the back of his mind- that he was done snooping. After that little fiasco how could he continue to do it- like that would be insane- playing with fire. But- honestly- since when was sanity going to stop him from doing anything. He needed a task before he thought himself into a hole.

He made a quick mental list of things to check up on. It was paranoid for sure- but it did make some sort of wild sense in his mind in a know thy enemy type of way. But- but it wasn’t like Shane was his enemy. He was- well he was close enough. All’s fair in love and war- or something? His train of logic was derailing. Never-mind. Action first. Analysis for why later.

He pulled up the laptop and began typing. He had bookmarked all of Shane’s more interesting articles into a folder labeled “Food for Thot.” What on earth had four AM him been thinking. Is that really how he was living his life- apparently. He pulled up several of the tabs to refresh them in his memory. They were as jarring as he had previously remembered. Fucking bleak as hell. But- maybe he was going crazy- but little by little- he could see himself agreeing? The splinters were becoming more numerous. Maybe Shane was making him less objective- he could feel himself reading the articles in his voice- and his voice was enough to make him be- agreeable?

So easily wooed it was pathetic. This was why he wasn’t in criminal investigations. Like what if Shane was a murder- holy shit- what if Shane was a murder?

His brain switched into idiot mode for several seconds- a whole fantastical scenario arising in his head- Shane had said he had sold everything but the car and the cat. And like who does that other than people who are running... but like running running?

No- just- just stop it- like stop being a dumbass for once. It would be an oddly easy out to all this madness. Easy- that was a strange word to align with a violent and dangerous crime. But like- this was the real world… and the real world is fucking hard. And people do shit for reasons that don’t explode off of a page or make headlines. People do things for building and bottled up reasons- normal reasons- that often are harder to face then anything fantastic. Shane, he knew, was most likely in the latter category. Shane was quiet. He didn’t talk about shit. He kept it in. Maybe writing gave him the confidence to say things he otherwise would have kept to himself…

Huh. Was that what a breakthrough felt like?

Ryan’s gaze stalled on the screen for a moment- mentally running his fingers around the sides of that realization as if it was the first piece to the puzzle. What then were its matching pieces- if that was a piece at all…

Doomers- Hunter S. Thompson- and- and those playlists- that was what he needed to focused on. Actually- forget the first two things- playlists were where it was at. That was the personal shit- the what he listens to day in and day out shit- the real inside scoop. See, he could- on occasion- think- even if that thinking was self admittedly kind of- well creepy? Well not creepy- just observant. That’s it. He was being astute. Ha ah- yes ass-tute. Literal five year old.

Ryan might have had the self control to not snoop in the moment- but he had caught a glimpse of Shane’s username and without even processing it- he had stored it into the back of his memory. He pulled up Spotify and after several attempts, sounding out the various ways it could be spelled, he found it. He briefly made a little victory dance on the floor. This was it- he could already feel the enlightenment coursing through him.

He scrolled through the list.

Bad Vibes. Sad Shit. New Finds. Alt Nonsense. Slaps. Classical BS. Shop Music. Driving Mix.

Yes- it was all there. Driving Mix- been there heard that. Same went for Shop Music. And Classical BS and Alt Nonsense were exactly that- nothing terribly interesting. Slaps- that had something to it- a surprising amount ABBA actually and some strange German club music from the 80s. So, that playlist had potential. But still, that left the big three: Bad Vibes, Sad Shit, and New Finds. The first two had the most appeal but the last had the most immediate impact. He didn’t recognize most or rather any of the artists on them. They were three walks into the unknown wilds. Some deep and probably masochistic part of his brain was screaming at him to bend. Which he finally did, clicking on Sad Shit.

He leaned back as the first track started playing. The first guitar chord hit and he slapped the pause button. He didn’t know if it was a placebo effect or what- but he was already feeling it- the chills running up his arm. God he was dramatic. He- He needed to prepare himself for this. A gut reaction rose in his stomach- trying to tell him something- but he ignored it- taking a shower instead- and then doing his hair instead- and eventually getting ready and going out the door instead.

It was 6:30 in the morning. Not many people were up. The campus was just coming to life. He wondered if Shane was up. He wondered what Shane had done last night. What had he thought about their date- He obviously wanted another one- but what had he thought of him? The phone weighed like a bowling ball in his pocket. His steps moved a little quicker.

Eventually he washed up at the coffee shop. Steven wasn’t there. He had hoped that he would have been. That could have been another distraction from the path he had already fallen down- even though he had just listened to one second- that one second was killing him. He collected his drink and took up residence in a corner table away from the window, pulled out his laptop, started “working,” and plugged in his earbuds.

He skipped the first song- he’d come back to it later- maybe the next one would be better. He glanced down at the title, “I Lost Something in the Hills.” Apparently not. He moved to turn it off again. But- but- he stopped. He clenched his jaw. He needed to listen to it. He needed to get through it. This was important. Why- he didn’t know. It wasn’t like Shane had asked him to listen to it. Shane probably wouldn’t even want him to listen to it. But here he was convicted that he should.

And so he let the song play. It wasn’t dark and it wasn’t terrible. In fact, it wasn’t even necessarily sad. It was just something. It had some unidentified substance- like you could let it pour and crumble from between your fingers like ash or soil. It was real. And he found himself thinking things- of daily struggles that built upon each other- of nights spent awake- of the moments in between thoughts- of every time the minor inconveniences threatened to tip the balance... of every time he had wondered if this was happiness... And as the music continued what he was afraid of before- that feeling in his stomach- arose in him. He- himself- was truly listening- from a place deep inside. It was resonating in waves down his ribs. 

The song came to an end- and he pressed repeat- and then pressed repeat again- until eventually he just smashed the endless loop button. He listened till his coffee grew cold and his feet grew roots. Maybe the hour turned. It was unclear… it was unclear…

“What’s with the face-“

Ryan shook from his trance- his ear buds yanking out of his ears. Steven, apparently, was at work today, looking as bright eyed and as bushy tailed as ever.

“You’re gonna scare away the customers looking like that-“ Steven teased, sliding into the seat across from him.

“I am a customer you dingus.” Ryan scoffed, with an accidental edge of bitterness.

“Hey- Hey-“ Steven soothed, “Sorry man I didn’t know it was like that,”

Ryan twisted his cup, wondering where that had come from- where any of it had come from. He let out a long sigh.

“Nah man I’m sorry- I’m just- I don’t know- I just am is all.” He twirled his finger at the side of his head.

“Am what?”

“Something.” He groaned.

Steven nodded understandingly, “I see- I see-“ His eyes searched around Ryan’s face before falling to the laptop, “What do you have going on there?” He tapped the back of it.

“Oh-“ Ryan blushed with embarrassment, “I’m- I’m just listening to some sad shit,”

“Really?” Steven said, with a mocking but light hearted smirk.

“Yeah- Really,” Ryan turned the laptop and tapped at the title of the playlist with his finger.

Steven’s expression changed, “Sad shit.”

“Mhmm,” Ryan clicked the laptop closed.

Steven rubbed his hands together in thought- very therapist like- very intercessory- he should have been a shrink instead of a barista.

“Is that-“ Steven said carefully, “I don’t know reflective of something- did- did your coffee run not go to plan?”

Reflective. Strike that last statement. He is a shrink- just masquerading as a barista.

Ryan ran his hands over the back of his laptop slowly, “It went to plan alright- it went nearly perfect.“

Steven squinted his eyes, “You’re being sarcastic?” He might have phrased it like a question but it was clearly a statement in Steven’s mind- Ryan could tell from the tone.

Steven rose up in his seat a bit. “Did he get nasty or something- cause like that’s not cool if he did- I’ll make sure to put grounds in his coffee for the rest of his life-”

“Nah- Nah,” Ryan raised his hands up, “I mean that’s the sweetest and most protective thing you have ever said to me- and I’ll keep it on tab- but I’m not being- I mean he was a lovely- he is a lovely man…”

Steven sat back again, resting against his chair thoughtfully, “Are you guys like a- ah-“

“I- I don’t know. I guess. I mean we haven’t said anything like that about that-“ Ryan flustered at the very idea of it- of calling Shane his- he could feel himself getting redder, “I mean- I actually- I don’t know if he is the type to say something like that…”

Steven’s eyebrows went up in surprise, “He’s-“ His head shook in awe, “He’s a fuckboy- Him? I guess I really don’t know books buy thei-”

“No-“ Ryan desperately interjected, “No he’s not a fucking fuckboy- Jesus Christ- no- he’s- man I don’t know. I mean he’s not fucking that- it’s just I can’t fucking place him. He’s just different man- different and- and you know.” He was trying to use his hands to explain points, but he could feel it becoming more of a wild wave then anything.

“Different how?” Steven said, intrigued.

“Well like-“ Ryan’s thoughts were chaotic, rattled, and ready to burst. “I mean this is in the hypothetical- I guess- or maybe more of on a limb- or I don’t know- but like I don’t know when I get fucking sad I order a pizza or go to the gym till I can’t feel my face and then- I mean- I head home and fucking sleep it off- and I guess hope that the next day I am going to feel better about stuff. And you know like when I get really really fucking sad I just start fucking up my life by doing dumb shit- but him- like- when he gets fucking sad- like he does something about it-“

“Like what?”

Ryan winced at the question, “Like- I don’t know man I said this was a limb- I mean I don’t know for sure but- like- I know he would do something about it and with it- and that line of action would not be ordering a fucking pizza man. He would- he would go and think about it.” He paused, finally latching onto something in the mess he was babbling on about, “Yeah- you know- he would think about it- dissect it- and get something out of it. He would have a fucking opinion and he would get just that little bit fucking smarter because of it-“

His hands were waving like a classical conductor- people were looking- or were they- who knows- better sit on the hands. He took a deep breath. Steven’s expression was concerned. Poor Steven, listening to this nonsense. He took another breath.

“Look-“ He sighed, “Like for example we were having a conversation yesterday-“

“You saw him yesterday-“

“Yeah- Yeah- I did and well we were talking and like he just brings up this hell of a topic about me and he was casual about it- like I don’t even think he was aware he was doing it- and he just like- I don’t know he picked me apart man- and- and like it was stuff that I should have been thinking about but haven’t been. He just effortlessly pulled the rug out from under me and got me thinking about things that like- like I haven’t been thinking about- and like that’s- that’s just it-“ He leaned forward over his laptop, “I haven’t and I don’t think- like I just do things. I just do things all the time.”

Steven shrugged, taking this calmly, or at least appearing to do so for his sake, “There’s nothing wrong with that- just doing things.”

“Yeah- but- There’s not a hell of a lot good with that either. And how he brought it up too- he was like ‘you said this thing and it made me wonder’ and now it’s got me wondering why aren’t I wondering about these things…”

Ryan’s words finally ran out for a moment. Steven was analyzing his face- analyzing everything- the rational mind at work.

“I mean-“ Steven finally said, “It doesn’t sound like a bad thing- him making you wonder about stuff. Isn’t that rather good?”

Steven's voice was encouraging but there was a hint of confusion in it that made Ryan crinkle.

“What?” He hunched.

“I mean,” Steven tapped his finger on the table, “You sound angry about it.”

“I’m not angry,” Ryan’s voice felt thin in his mouth.

“Okay,” Steven exhaled, “Okay, buddy.”

“I mean-“ Ryan reach for his cup, “I’m sure as hell not angry with him.” He took a shaky sip.

“I didn’t say him,”

Ryan was still sipping. He was looking over his glass at Steven- who was looking back at him. Steven knew. Ryan knew. Ryan slammed down the glass with a fabricated firmness.

“Fuck-you,” He muttered, pointing a finger in Steven’s face.

“Me?” Steven feigned shock and awe.

“Yeah you,” Ryan was getting grouchy now. His ego- what little of it there was- was in jeopardy. Nothing like getting called out point blank.

“Ryan,” Steven said, level headed and persistent, “People have different ways of coping with stuff and that’s okay Ryan- not everyone is meant to be this astute introspective think tank- which I doubt he really and totally is- I think you’re just psyching yourself out. I really do. Actually, if anything that proves that you do think- you think a lot- too much even- how else did you come to this wild conclusion.”

Steven was hitting something right between the eyes, and Ryan had a vague notion that it was him. Better to move on.

“You know,” Ryan pointed to his closed laptop, “I have been listening to this stuff- well since this morning- and I can’t get past the first few songs.”

“Huh?” Steven’s eyes bore through his glasses.

“Oh,” Ryan shied away from his gaze, “It’s his- it’s his playlist man- and I think- I don’t know maybe that’s why I am a mess.”

Steven hummed, adding something else to the pot of theories he was obviously stirring.

“He link you it?”

“I just…” Ryan glanced around the shop, “I just been listening to it. And like it’s making me feel some things I guess.”

“Well yeah I should think with that kind of title,” Steven chuckled.

That was a good stopping place. Things could rebound and turn normal- no weird thoughts- no revelations- but Ryan could still feel something circling around him.

“I just-“ He began, unsure of where he was going, “I just- I just hope that I can I don’t know- I mean this shit hurts- it fucking hurts to listen to,”

“Then why are you listening to it bro?”

Of course Steven back at it with the logic.

“Cause you know he does-“

“So,” Steven protested, “He didn’t tell you to listen to it- and if its honestly messing you up you’d think he still want you to listen to it? No! Like you’d think he’d want you to go through that- hurting?”

“No- man,” Ryan hushed, “Don’t you see- that’s- that’s exactly it. I think he doesn’t. And that- that’s what I’m afraid of…”

Steven’s face made a nonsensical expression, “That he doesn’t want to hurt you?”

“Why does it sound so fucked up when you say it- it makes perfect sense in my head.”

“Maybe your head isn’t on right.”

Ryan couldn’t and didn’t deny that statement.

“It’s just-“ He blundered on, “It’s intimidating you know. It's intimidating- it’s fucking intimidating as hell. I mean like in understanding him- I feel like you know I’m- I’m beginning to understand things about myself. Shit that I didn’t- I guess I didn’t know was there-“

“Like what?”

“Like I don’t know!” Ryan exclaimed a little too loudly, “That’s what- I just know I’m feeling things and like I know it’s- man I sound like I’m crazy.“

Steven shook his head, “Perhaps,”

“Yeah- Yeah-“ Ryan sulked, “I guess the fact that it’s been only a week really isn’t helping my case is it?”

“Nope.”

“It’s just like-“ Ryan wracked his brain for a solid line of thought, “It's just like I think he knows that it’s a lot- like- and I think he knows that it’s intimidating- and that’s why- I mean Christ he’s- he’s like the complete opposite of intimidating as a person- like there is this massive stretch of dissonance between who he is and like who I believe him to be- and it’s not that I’m wrong because- because like well it used to be in just like glances- like you could read it off of him- but like that conversation that came out of nowhere? I don’t think it came from nowhere. I think that was him- honest to goodness him- not trying to do shit or be shit other than a fraction of what he is… and if that was just a fraction… and then you know what am I and how can I stand along with that…”

His voice died as he followed the arc of his reasoning to its end. The fourteen-hour nap was starting to make sense- and the little splinters under his skin too- and why he had been so insistent in listening to that fucking playlist. It wasn’t really about Shane- well that was part of it- the catalyst. But what was happening with him was him. It was all the things he had ignored, grown used to, and just fucking accepted. He had grown accustomed to himself. He wasn’t used to having anyone rummage around. He’d never let anyone. He’d never had anyone get in so close. And things were disturbed- and this whole thing- this whole state he had been in- it had been about him- him and his disruption- and how many weeds he had let grow over himself.

Two breakthroughs in one day. What a roll.

“I’m- I’m-“ He regained himself, “I’m sorry man I’m just talking your ear off- with this garbage- it probably won’t last a month- you know like most things with me…”

Like most things. That had a terrible ring to it. Like a lie. Because this wasn’t like most things. Whether short or long- it wasn’t. Time frame had no hold over it. He knew it- and Steven appeared like he knew it too.

An expresso machine hissed somewhere in the background, and Steven smiled sympathetically.

“It’s real this time isn’t it,” He said solemnly.

“Yeah… I ah… I guess that’s…” Ryan pressed the back of his hand to his mouth- keeping back the tide of all things he had thought before- all the reasons why it was real this time- lest if he said them... they would stop being real.

“If it helps,” Steven said softly, “I once told a girl I loved her after three days.”

“Jesus Christ-“ Ryan giggled, “You didn’t.”

“Nope I did,” Steven said, laughing now too, “Guilty as charged,”

“Well-“ Ryan wheezed, “At least I haven’t done anything that stupid even if I do-“

His phone buzzed. He jumped on it. His heart melted- Shane.

"Morning :) Wondered if you’d like to help me pick out some movies for the shop today- I’m ordering a select stock of films for a new section in the store!"

Ryan typed out a quick response of “fuck yeah” and guzzled the rest of his coffee- actually more like choked on it- as he had forgotten it was stone cold until it hit the back of his throat.

“I gotta go-“ He croaked.

“So soon?”

“Yeah-“ He shuffled his stuff into his bag, “Someone want’s my opinion somewhere.”

Steven made a high sounding note of interest, as Ryan high tailed it out and across the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So!!! Ryan is a bit of disaster- but at least he has Steven in this one lmao!!!
> 
> also- note- I have finally landed a job again after being unemployed due to "these times" as people say- so updates might be a little slow- but I will seriously try to keep my normal schedule of every like 2-3 days!!!!
> 
> Thank-you so much for reading and be so so lovely you guys :)))))))))))))))))


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow <<3333 it literally makes me so warm inside thinking about how lovely you guys are and how supportive!!!!! thanks so much honestly----
> 
> I apologize also if there are any mistakes in this chapter- I wrote it all in one sitting and honestly, my eyes are bitchin about it- ekk...
> 
> BUT anyways ENJOY!!!!

Ryan quickly went up to the storefront and went to pull the handle to the door. However, as he reached up to touch it his eyes squinted. There was a loud- horrendous- rude sign hanging on the inside of the door dangling from a little hook.

“CLOSED,”

It was in red, complete with passive aggressively cursive letters, as if serifs could make the situation better. Of course- of all the cruel jokes- it was still eight in the morning. Eight in the goddamned morning. Ryan stood there for a moment, a bit paralyzed, looking into the empty and darkened shop through the reflective glass pane of the door. The registers were cold. The displays were untouched. The first employees didn’t even seem to be there yet. It was a ghost town. Had- Had Shane not meant right now…

Ryan’s hand fell to his side. He had wanted it to be right now. Right now was the best time to do something- anything- and waiting- well that would be no good on all accounts. Terrible, in fact. There were too many things he could think of and too much he could say to himself and he didn’t want that fate to befall him again.

One- okay. Two- he could live with. But three breakthroughs in one day and he was entirely convinced he would fall through the floor. The speed at which he had dashed from the coffee shop was apparent now. Like he was ducking his own blows. What to do- what to fucking do… He continued to stand there awkwardly, before finally realizing that he should use his words and just text him.

“Wat time were u thinking?”

There was a span of radio silence. Sudden paranoid images of a bathrobe wearing and coffee drinking Shane looking out his window and seeing him acting like a fool on the sidewalk below arose. Ryan’s paralysis was cured. Hastily, he slunk around the side of the building- past the windows- like some sort of criminal, to the side street where there was a broken down bench. As he sat down, he retracted into it, pressing close to the wall.

He looked up. Yes, the side street was safer- there were awnings here. He picked up his phone again and looked at his text. He should have actually said “what” and “you” but it was too late. Shane would find out eventually that he was a-

Buzz- Buzz- Ryan’s eyes jumped to the message.

“Oh I don’t know- I’m up and around actually- so whenever you want to come on by. I can just let you in- just come to the back!”

Let you in. Wow. Okay. Getting let in now? Well- it wasn’t too strange. But- he’d never been let in anywhere. That would mean just the two of them in the shop. Dang- why was he getting so hyped about this. He typed out a reply.

“That’s great. I was just having coffee next door- I can be right by :)”

Shane “emphasized” the text. Ryan double-checked over himself. It was okay- nothing disastrous- and for once- due to that half-a-day fucker of a snooze- he was more than just five cups of coffee in a trench coat. He was actually awake and rested- albeit it in a still wrinkled sort of way.

He bounced his leg and looked as the time passed on his phone. His brain had told him to wait for five. So he was. It wasn’t like he wanted to look like he ran over here. But the second minute three hit- you know- enough was becoming enough. He had run his palms back and forth so many times on his pants the creases in them had doubled. His heart was starting to get loud.

He sprung off the creaky little bench and flew over to the back door. There was a little callbox doorbell type thing. He pressed it and an electronic tune played inside. As he waited for Shane to come- his eyes drifted to the wall- the same wall-

Shane’s hand on the wall. Shane pressing him up against it. Hypnotic pictures.

The door opened and he jumped. Shane looked chipper and excited- like he had been awake at 5 that morning too- but in a healthy habit sort of way. A morning person- Interesting.

“Mornin’” He sang, stepping back and letting the door swing open, “There isn’t anyone here yet- so we’re gonna have- ah some peace and quiet for a while to look through what I have so far- I got some more ah- films since- well since last time- so it might take us a while- but like I said we’ll have a while- err- alone- ha ah- yeah-” Shane smiled while fluffing his hair.

Ryan instinctively raised an eyebrow while following him through the door- and up the staircase. Somehow with each light step that Shane made- a distinctive notion grew stronger. Yes, Shane was far too awake and he was dressed fantastically too. Was that how he just dressed- or- or was this some Cast of Amontillado type deal- but with rare films and decidedly sneaky romantic intentions. Yes, Shane’s motis operandum was becoming somewhat clear. Ryan was getting that now- or at least he was thinking he got it.

Shane led them through his door- up through his office- and to the apartment above. Definitely Amontillado vibes as Shane slid the trap door that went down to the office closed.

“Ah- yeah- Michael might be today now that I think about,” Shane said as if he need to justify closing the door. "But he can knock."

“Michael?” Ryan said,

“He’s nobody-“ Shane shook his hand, “Well not nobody- he’s just like my main stock guy,”

Ryan hadn’t thought that he or it sounded suspicious. Lord knows it wasn’t like they had made anything- well he’d already driven that to a pulp with Steven. But Shane was clearly jumpy that it was. So did that mean? Ryan tried not to get his hopes raised- but they- they did raise.

“So- ah,” Ryan said, drifting over to the living room, “What exactly was your idea- for this section?”

“Hmm?” Shane was still falling down a mental rabbit hole, “Oh yeah-“ He swiftly came over to the couch and pulled out a box which he proceeded to unceremoniously dump onto the coffee table, “I was thinking-“ he circled the table, “Well I was thinking that maybe I could work on getting other kinds of people interested in the store. I mean well ah- of course the lit people are interested- that’s a given. But like I can work on- or in getting more than just books and stuff. Because well we do- or I do- we have ah- of course the store but that’s not where most of the revenue comes from. Well- like we do have textbooks and things but that stuff is kind of a twice a year windfall and I thought I should maybe ‘diversify’ or something.” He finally stopped circling and perched on the sofa.

Ryan leaned back- his arms crossing in surprise. He’d gauged this all wrong- or had he- this was- this was serious stuff. Regular- well regular fucking real shit. He sat down on the couch as well.

“And you-“ He rested his chin on his hand, “And you want my advice on what would be good?”

Shane shrugged kind of shyly, “Hey you know you are a movie guy so- so- you know I thought I’d better call you- you know share this idea that I’ve kind of had cooking.”

Jesus Christ. Ryan’s hands wavered a bit as he reached for the first case- overwhelmed. Like- holy shit- Shane thought that much of him. He- he didn’t even know any of the movies that had been here before. He- well he didn’t need Ryan’s help with this- but still he wanted it. That was- oh my God.

“I-“ Ryan tried to act professional about this, “What kind of people were you looking to pull in?”

Shane distractedly flipped over one of the cases in his hands, “Well- I’m well to tell the truth I’m not exactly sure on that front. But I do know- I mean obviously I know- we have a pretty large film and media school here. And with that comes a lot of professors- and you know being a professor takes time- or so I’ve heard- and well I know for a fact most of the literature professors would rather not go through the loops it takes to get the copies of the books they need and or just fucking want. And like I don't blame them- I mean it took me three months to track down a copy of this- like fucking 1884 edition of the Rubáiyát- and I’m well connected… not that they aren’t but they tend to know only people in their niche of study and like I well I have a different pool of connections- you know people who wouldn’t just buy a copy of the Rubáiyát themselves- so it works out somehow.”

Ryan tried his best to not seem completely blown away- it was just like how he had said connections- was just- fuck- like someone who knew the mafia. There’s mafia in Chicago right? Yes- duh- of course there is- and it probably wasn’t them he was “connected” with but still. Ryan had barely gotten the three required letters of recommendation for grad school. This was- wow…

“Anyways-“ Shane continued, “I was thinking I could kind of do the same deal with film. I don’t know as many people that did- or do- do that and that’s going to be part of the challenge. But I was thinking I could make a go at it anyway- and worst-case scenario I just end up having to pedal them online- or ah- something.”

Ryan finally blinked. “I think that’s like fucking brilliant- it might take a while to get off- I know that some of the film professors are kind of picky- but I think they’d like the idea of not having to source stuff for themselves. Honestly, they usually make us do that kind of stuff.”

Ryan laughed- nervous out of his god damn mind. This was a real conversation with real outcomes. He barely could handle his own life- let a lone make decisions about someone else’s.

“It-“ Shane sounded like he thought he was imposing, “It’d be okay with me if it took awhile to really get anything out of it. I just wanted to branch out- I guess- I don’t- I just want to try to make the place a little bit better than when I got it… I guess or something…”

That’s right. The estranged uncle and the shop Shane had never seen- or well hadn’t seen until it had been given to him. The guilt was evident. But also- there was something else- entirely strange and unrelated floating around. Shane was muting it- not as unsuccessfully as the guilt- but it was there. However, regardless of whether he fully understood Shane’s motives or not Ryan knew that this was terribly important to him- to do this- to make it a little bit better. Ryan found himself clenching his hands.

“I’m… I’m going to be frank with you Shane,” Ryan sighed, looking distantly at all the cases, “I don’t think that I know perhaps as much as you might give me credit for… Like I didn’t know like any of this- of these… Like one of maybe two I have read about- and I- I don’t know if I’m the right person for this…” He paused, Shane was urging him to look him in the eye, but he refused it, instead continuing to focus on the table, “I mean… I want you to succeed- and I think that you will- this is such a great idea- that I don't know if I am- well- I-”

“Bullshit,“ Shane cut candidly. “Absolute bullshit.”

Ryan halted in his tracks- his mouth open- his posture stiffened. Shane didn’t look or sound angry- or sound really anything- but that was just it- it was just like a brick wall of unyielding bluntness. A matter of fact openness- that allowed for no debate. Bullshit. Exactly. That’s what it was.

Shane quieted for a moment, sitting back into the sofa. His line of sight moved past the table and to the kitchen. Ryan reflexively followed it- past the island and to the empty coffee pot in the sink. His gaze quickly flicked back to Shane. Had- had he been up all night. Had the bounciness and cheerfulness been like- a bad case of overcompensating- Shane- well Shane looked normal- but who even knows what normal is-

“When I said that I didn’t have any taste-“ Shane began, his voice pleading, “I- I meant it- I really mean it- I don’t- I really don't- I need you to help me with this because- yeah I order all this junk and like I know what I like but that doesn’t mean I know what other people like- it doesn’t even mean that I truly know what I should like- what I should be watching- I just gravitate to what I gravitate to and I know that- well what gravitates to me isn’t-“ He stopped himself.

Ryan looked on, expectant and desperate. The edge of what had almost been said- what was it- he had to force himself to stay back- to not follow up- to not push. If Shane didn’t want to say- he wasn’t going to ask. He’d already pushed his limits… but… his palms burst into a sweat.

Shane wasn’t moving but- but- there were vibrations- suppressed motions of gaze and expression. The very stillness with which he was sitting only made it more evident how much was going on inside. Ryan could sense it- the currents of thoughts twisting around each other and pulling each other in circular cycles of sublimation and expression.

“I just,” Shane’s voice was level and calm, “I don’t want you to think anything of what you- Just please forget whatever you read online- ah- you know- it’s just words.” He nodded soberly, “Words.”

The world stopped turning. Words- was it that- that cut and dry. Ryan’s face and mind were blank- anything he had planned to say or to do upon this conversation coming up were deleted. He was a void.

“I-“ He stumbled. “I- well-

“It’s okay,” Shane said simply. “It’s- well- it was professional.”

“Professional?” Ryan’s voice was raspy with exasperation.

“Yes,” Shane said unmoved, “It was. I wrote what people wanted to hear.”

“I’m- I’m,” Things weren’t computing. Ryan couldn’t form a sentence let alone a thought. “How- Why?” He finally managed to say.

Shane flinched but only a little. “I was very coldly told that there were no jobs and to get anywhere in life as an editor I needed to start with a bang or I would very quickly become a nobody.”

Ryan went dead cold. Shane’s position on the couch remained frozen- untouchable.

“And I didn’t want to be a nobody.”

“So you-“

“I found what I was good at.” Shane replied, “And I did it. There’s no story. There’s no content- or comment I really have for it. No excuse. It was just something that was- and is no more. It had no substance to it- other than it being an amalgamation of every negative opinion anyone above me had. I just sort of condensed it- into an awful tapestry of worthlessness. It meant nothing to me then. It means nothing to me now. And it shouldn’t mean anything to anyone else either.”

Ryan motioned to say something about the blogs- but he bit his tongue. He- he could feel himself resisting this explanation. The firmness- the bleakness- it didn’t feel like Shane. But then, maybe that was who Shane used to be. Maybe these were the only terms he had to describe it. But still…

“So-“ Shane sighed, turning back to movies, “Enough about that- I just don’t want to have you thinking anything about me which isn’t true. I don’t know what’s good- you see.”

Ryan did not see.

“Well- anyway,” Shane continued, sweeping the whole thing under the rug like it was an unseemly pile of dirt, “Let’s talk movies- because I actually am excited to get on this with you- we could design- design maybe a display together with-“

Shane talked on- for some minutes at length about other things. He was monologing like his life depended on it. And Ryan listened- well he wasn’t listening- but he was attentive, nodding and so on. This whole thing… his conspiracy mind was engaged… but by exactly what he didn’t know. He wasn’t satisfied. But- at the same time- that was well- awfully selfish. Maybe that was why Shane hadn’t said anything- there was nothing to say. But his whole life and career boiled down to “nothing” it- it didn’t track. Why would he run blogs and moderate things- was it all like a mask- or something. That’s crazy. But isn’t it crazier to not believe him… there was no reason to not to- and he was so awfully nice and sensitive- wouldn’t it make sense that it was just some fictional projection- a job?

He thought about the bogus essays about those bullshit lofty themes that had gotten him into grad school. Hadn’t he done the same thing? Shane had just done it better and on a much larger scale… but still… still…

“Do you really think that this is a good idea?” Shane asked,

Ryan’s eyes quickened, “Oh- yes-“ His gazed darted at Shane’s face- intending to only look for a second- but he ended up staring at it- and how soft and beautiful it looked- how warm. He could feel himself soften and his mental chaos disappear, “I mean- it’s,” His mind was empty now for a different reason, “I mean- I think that you will be able to make the place a little bit better- I mean you already have, by ah- by just being here- err- I gu-“

Shane kissed him on the top of his forehead, sending shivers down his spine.

“Will you watch them and tell me honestly what you think?” Shane’s hand caressed the side of Ryan’s neck.

Emotional manipulation. Shameless. Wonderful.

“Sure- you- you-“ A smiled crept upon his face, “You fucking bastard,”

“Oo,” Shane laughed - smug as hell.

There was a clattering downstairs. The sounds of books being dropped off and life coming to the store.

“The shop’s opening up.” Shane groaned, his hand tracing a reluctant trail down Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan instinctively moved closer to his touch, knowing it would be gone soon.

“You’re doing a good job,” Ryan said softly,

Shane traced a lazy circle on Ryan’s back, before resting his head in his hands, “You know- I don’t know anything about business. I just- well- fucking googled it- isn’t that absurd.” He laughed timidly as if he was the thing that was absurd.

“If it means anything,” Ryan put his hand on Shane’s knee, gently, “I- I didn’t even know the place switched hands- I think you’re doing much better than you think you are.”

Ryan had wanted to add that he was much better than he thought he was too- but- but Shane was clearly at some sort of limit and was already struggling to believe him.

Shane made an unsure mumble akin to “I guess” and got up off of the couch. There was a knock at the trapdoor and Shane went over it, and as he did Ryan picked out a bunch of movies to screen and- well as Shane had suggested somewhere in his babblings- write a brief one-sentence recommendation tag for each of the best three.

Shane opened the door and there was some exchange of information about things being shipped here and there- nothing too important- but something about the tone brightened in Ryan’s ears. Something about it sounded similar to how Shane had sounded before- when saying that his career was professional… It was different… removed…

Ryan grabbed the videos and pushed them into his bag. There was a hasty good-bye made at the landing of the ladder, as the man downstairs, supposedly Michael was talking Shane’s ear off. Ryan carefully slipped down the ladder with a wave and Shane- Shane blew a kiss which was unexpected. PDA right- in front of employees- that- well that was something. Ryan passed by “Michael” with a schoolboyish blush- like he was taking the fucking walk of shame.

And as he went about the rest of his day- sat in lectures- took notes- corrected things- you know participated in his life for once- he thought- thought about how Shane had talked to him about that his former life... life... right...

It had been impersonal… impersonal.... but why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So---- Shane came clean------ >_> haha crazy--- how he did that----


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!! thank-you for being so great!!! So- this chapter is a bit of a calm- well you know how "a calm" proceeds things- hehhe a yeah. ;)

"Angel’s Egg"- that had been the first movie he had decided to watch. And he hadn’t been prepared for it. Last night, in the quiet of his room, it had played before him like a forgotten dream that he shouldn’t have had the privilege to relive. It had very little dialogue, almost none at all, for its hour and some odd minutes of run time but- but… There was a deep narrative there in abstract pieces that were shrouded by swirling shapes and cryptic metaphors. The gloomy colors of the sleepy world and it’s perpetual cycle of destruction and birth- spoke to him in strange and profound ways that he could not decipher.

The movie was animated- that had made it stand out. He hadn’t thought that Shane would pick something animated and he had been desperately curious to see what it was about- but now- even the next evening after viewing it- he still wasn’t sure. It was like as if a child had been given the total understanding of the world and then had been tasked with telling it. Or- or maybe- it was as if an adult had the understanding of a child and then was left trying to navigate the world. Or- or- something. He couldn’t put his finger on it- what it was- but there was a melancholic naiveté to it that felt organic and fanciful. And last night he had found himself dreaming of the namesake egg.

It was a mindfuck to put it bluntly. But somehow he couldn’t use blunt terms with it- it felt too brutal. So, vague- very vague- but very beautiful- that’s what it was. He wished he could be more insightful then that. Shane probably knew what it meant… Yes, the things that “gravitate” towards him as he had said. While Ryan didn’t exactly know what the movie was about- he saw it- how it could “gravitate.” The meditative sadness- the prolonged silences- the very fact that he was struggling to even scratch the god damned surface of what it could mean and what it was trying to say- it was Shane through and through- an enigma…

He fell back on his bed and sighed- a hint of frustration escaping from his lips as his phone buzzed again. Him and Shane had been texting nearly all day about nothing. He could sense Shane wanting to ask about the movies- but at the same time not wanting to be pushy about it. It was so fucking cute actually- how Shane was buzzing around in his inbox- sending him photos of Obi and of breakfast and of the store- or- or least it had been fucking cute.

He frowned. There was no more beating around the bush this time. Instead his inbox was darkened by a photo of a mock-up design of the new display. The butterflies turned into a panic. First pictures of a display- and then of course questions of what should go on the display. Fuck. Shane was going to want an analysis soon- and also- he squinted at the screen- who the fuck taught him how to be so good at designing shit- that display looked professional. Regular hot glue god. Had he been a boy scout or something? His brow scrunched. Do boy scouts even do crafts?

Never mind. Never mind. Get to work. Use that fucking head. Come up with something to say. He leaned over to his nightstand and snatched the wretched DVD case. The girl on the front of the cover was smiling at him as if she knew what a dumb shit he was.

His phone buzzed again with more pictures. Detailed craftsmanship. Yeah, boy scout type shit.

Fuck. He couldn’t dodge this forever. Come on- it was only one fucking sentence- a one-sentence review- that was all that Shane had wanted- Blah. Blah. Blah. Yada-fucking-yada. One sentence might have been what went on the display but knowing Shane he was going to ask follow up questions and what then. Couldn’t he come up with something- anything- other than “it made me feel sad but confused and like wow that ending- really ended the movie haha- and the egg certainly had a shell,” cause that was where he was at. His mind fizzled out. Wasn’t this what he was supposed to do for a living eventually? Film? Like if he couldn’t do this what could he do?

He sent Shane a quick and affirmative message about the display before he snapped open the case in frustration and fished out the little booklet that came with it. It was all in Japanese- so that didn’t help anything- but the art- maybe he could say something about the art? What even was that- nouveau style? He stared at it as if his problem was his eyesight and not sheer illiteracy of the topic at hand. He flipped through a couple more pages. There was a fold-out poster in the middle. Might as fucking well. He folded it out. It was a just a large version of the cover- so no help th-

A crumpled yellow sticky note tumbled out of the foldings of the poster.

He stared at it for a moment, unsure of where exactly it had come from or what it was, but when his brain finally fired into action he pounced on it and smoothed it out. It was covered with crooked notes in Shane’s distinctively messy but flowing scrawl.

_Points of Interest:  
\- Ukiyo-e tradition (the immaterial city vs. material life)  
\- Suffering creates the essence of life???  
\- L’appel du vide (destruction vs. perseveration- see Freud life & death impulse)  
\- Hauntology???_

There were several other bullet points below that but they were smudged out. Ryan scrambled over to his laptop to look this shit up- this could be his out- if these were Shane’s thoughts upon viewing the movie- this would fix everything. He could just parrot back whatever the fuck it meant. Yes- Yes. Rushes of relieved happy endorphins were flowing as he typed away.

The first bullet point was some type of Japanese art style okay- okay- screen printing and muted colors? What did that have to do with anything, especially the note next to it- immaterial city vs. material life? Okay, dead end- maybe that point was a bit too hard or- or something. The second one was just an opinion- or a statement? Well it ended in three question marks so perhaps a question. It wasn’t a pull quote from anything in particular- so skip that one too. Next. L’appel du vide, he had heard that one before. Yeah. The call of the void- or something- and death impulse- whatever the fuck that was. It was right on brand for Shane- a little too on brand. Actually, hadn’t he written an article on that? What was the title of that one- maybe key words-

His fingers stalled mid-type. His eyes blanking on the search bar. Words. It was just words.

His hands slid away from the keyboard. He had tried not to think about it- or well to question- what Shane had said about… well about everything. Last night he had put it out of his mind in favor of the movie- but now- as soon as it was given an inch his brain had taken a mile. There it was, a strand of evidence, linking shit together. A pretty little red line tracing from then to now, illustrating how it might have not been nothing, and in fact it might have been the exact opposite- it might have been everything.

Yeah- Yeah- dramatic right. Crazy. It wasn’t a crime, to reference things that- you know- had been previously an ingrained part of your life. Yeah of course it could just be a coincidence- it was just within Shane’s frame of knowledge that was all- nothing more. No need to focus in on it. Ha ha. Right? Right.

His phone buzzed again- insistent. Ryan quickly flicked up the screen expecting to see some horrific question in the ballpark of- “have you watched anything yet :)” but instead it was a text from Steven.

“What’s up dude- I’m going down to the Broken Axel for Tacos. I have a promotional for a bit off of the happy hour beer! Do you wanna come and chill the heck out?”

Chill. What a beautiful word. He had almost forgotten of its existence- Lord knows he hadn't chilled since he had first locked eyes with Shane. No wonder why he slept so long the night he had come back from their tentative date. No chill- no chill at all. That’s what everything had fucking been.

He typed out an eager text back and times were arranged- happy hour would begin in a half-hour and they would be there on the dot to drain them of as much discount alcohol as possible. He slapped the sticky note onto his magnet board over his desk and ducked out the door.

For once it wasn’t a muggy swamp outside. There had been a pleasant southern wind that- while piping hot- had evaporated the lingering swampy steam. Perfect weather for deck drinking. Maybe this wasn’t going to be a horrid evening after all. Actually, why had he been thinking that it was going to be horrid anyway- he needed to get his “negative ideation” down or whatever that therapist he had seen for a total of two visits had said. Yeah- stop being a sad shit. Negativity. That was the crux of what was wrong. And- naturally- nothing better to solve that then going out and relaxing. This was perfect.

He took the slow way there, around the far end of the library and the struggling community garden. The Broken Axel was a couple of blocks past Calypso’s on a busted corner. Above it there were some janky ass apartments that were continually filled with a rotating cast of stick and poke tattoo artists and music majors- a frankly dangerous combination when house concert season came around. He and his big toe could attest to that- thankfully tattoos on the bottom of your toe go away after a couple of months due to callouses or something- otherwise he would still have that ugly ass little ghost creeping around down there. How that had been worth $15 of his drunk dollars he’d never be sure. Fucking con job. Idoi-

No. No negative thoughts. _No negative thoughts._

His eyes scanned around the patio.

“What up man!” He waved at Steven, who was already lounging at a table near the outside fire pit.

“What up,” Steven said tipping his beer to him. “Already placed in the order for queso.”

“Fucking great man- I’m starving,” Ryan collapsed into the chair across from him. “How long you been here?”

“Couple minutes-“ Steven shrugged, “I was already on overtime at the shop- so I think they were kind of glad when I clocked out- lest I make to much money off the system- the extra 5 an hour or whatever after we go over. But it can’t be helped mostly. We had some people cancel on us- new kids or whatever- they’re still learning the ropes. And it’s getting close to finals so course we are going to get ghosted a couple of times.”

“Happens every year…” Ryan sighed.

“Yep,” Steven groaned, taking a drink.

“Why- Why don't they do something to fix it-“ Ryan shook his head, “You shouldn’t have to be the backbone of that place. They could at least make you a manager.”

“Well,” Steven said lackadaisically, “I put in a request,”

“A request?”

“Yep- to be a manager,” He nodded. “I haven’t heard anything yet- but- but I’m hoping. If it goes through I might finally be able to put that useless business degree to use.”

Steven took another sip, while looking into the fire pit.

“They gotta fucking give it to you man.”

“We’ll see man-“ Steven exhaled, “We’ll see… How things?”

“With Shane? Well-“ He bit his lip.

Yes, how were things? Were things the same- Absolutely. But then again were they- Absolutely not. They weren’t the same as the same they had been before. It was simple. Things were different and yet nothing had happened. Ha. Nothing- words- that’s what they were. It was very sensible. Nothing was wrong. Not like Shane was avoiding something. Not like there was anything going on. The mystery had solved itself. What did you know. No negative thoughts. Chill.

“It’s great,” Ryan said, with a smile.

“Glad to hear it, man,” Steven said, too tired from work to laser in on anything.

The queso arrived. Tacos were ordered in unsafe amounts- along with an even unsafer amount of hot sauce- and beers began to stack up on the table. A normal and relaxed conversation flowed between them about the typical same old shit- customers- classes- roommates. It felt good. It felt well needed. Ryan let his mind turn off and drift away.

The daylight grew orange- then red- then purple- and eventually it disappeared behind the horizon. The warm glow of the fire pit now lit their table, as the fog of all the beer and the cheese set in. Their conversation got louder- before eventually becoming sparser- sleepy. A bill was eventually pushed underneath his nose. It wasn’t too painful due to whatever promotional flier Steven had yanked out of his pocket- but it still hurt.

More mumbled conversation- that was friendly but only vaguely understood- was exchanged. And eventually, the table was rolled out of. Ryan's footing was a bit odd- but his feet were there- just sort of moving and doing their thing. He was drifting- not exactly drunk in the full meaning of the word just wistfully comatose. His mind was alert- it was just everything else that wouldn’t cooperate. There was an offer of an uber- but it was declined. He lived only a twenty minute walk away if he paced himself- and he could pace himself.

Good-byes were made.

And he went off into the newly- or perhaps not so newly- fallen night. Things looked a bit different in the dark. Odd. Or was he the one that was odd. Yes- him. Flashbacks to the movie were rolling into his mind. Would he too see shadows of strange fish on the pavement and ghostly armies of men and would machinery come from under his feet? He furrowed his brow with what little sense that was up there. No- well- probably not- or something. He continued along the street, following along the bright lights of the random storefronts and darkened alleyways.

And before long- he ended up down one of those alleyways. Had it been a cat- or something- he had seen something. Or had he. Whatever. He could see the spire of the union lawn coming closer with each step- so he was going the right direction. It was right- this felt familiar- this street. So no worries- but God it was hot. So fucking hot. How could it be so hot in the fucking evening- literally everything was in the shade-

He stopped.

Things suddenly came into place. He had somehow wandered into the side street behind Calypso’s- yes- and- and there was someone- someone there- upon the fire escape against the building. He leaned back against the brick wall of the darkened corner he had just turned out of, and looked up, hidden. There was a little orange light like a firefly dancing up there with the shadow holding it. It grew dimmer for a moment- before being followed by smoke. Ah- a cigarette- those fucking things- those things kill-

Wait. He forced his eyes to behave- to filter for the light. He stood up straighter. It was Shane. But hadn’t he- wasn’t he- the fucking gum in the car- trying to quit? And there was something shiny in his hand too- a short glass. That- well Ryan was in no position to judge- but that wasn’t good. Both at the same time.

Another breezy cloud was exhaled out and it drifted down to Ryan's nose and sank into his clothes with it’s soot. Shane was unbothered- didn’t seem to notice that anyone was there. That was good. From internet stalker to accidental real stalker- that- that was something even hazy Ryan could understand as being a bad fucking move…

Yeah- but about moving. He wasn’t. He was hypnotized by the sight- and- and he was tired. Even with that half a day fucking crash still in recent memory he was tired- profoundly so- more than whatever amount of beers could explain. He’d never really just sat with how he just fucking physically and mentally felt. It was accustomed- the physical exhaustion that came with being a shit student- always procrastinating but at the same time always busy- he’d never paid it any mind. He’d never considered that it was anything more then something that sleep could cure. But as he laid against the wall and gazed up- there was an idea that it was something more… And something about the way Shane’s head was bent down into his chest told him that it was something more for him as well.

_“It was just something that was- and is no more.”_

Shane flicked the dwindling bud down to the ground below. It flashed flecks of light as it hit the pavement. And quietly- as if he had never been there at all- Shane slunk back through the open second-story window back into his shop.

Ryan was alone on the street now.

_“It’s real this time isn’t it.”_

Yes. It was...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey if you got an hour to kill- ik i'm always pluggin something in the notes- but Angel's Egg is literally on youtube in it's entirety. It's literally the most profound film? that I still can't figure out. So there's that <3333
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIhKqaNp4Dc
> 
> As always thank so much for reading :DDD


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being so kind <33333 and lovely- I honestly don't have much more to say other than thank-you. I'm having so much fun writing for these dorks and I'm glad you guys are having fun reading!!!!
> 
> Ryan's worst enemy is literally himself- so let's see how (and if) he actually tackles that

_Shane-_

Stray bolts of light began to pierce through.

_Shane?_

Ryan’s eyes suddenly popped open. The noxious vibrating of his phone’s alarm was ringing through his whole body and he- in a twisted pile- fell onto the floor of his dorm room. His breath was labored, sticking in his lungs, and his pulse was in his ears. He wrestled to get to his back pocket. God why was it so loud- why was everything so loud- even the light was loud. He finally managed to find the phone and slap the snooze.

Disoriented and jumbled- he looked around his own room like he had never seen it before. How the fuck did he get here- wasn’t he- wasn’t he just looking up-

The distinct odor of taco grease and beer invaded his nose, hitting him with a sobering dose of reality. That had been last night and this- well obviously was the next fucking morning. It became clear. Autopilot had taken over at some point and he had eventually and no doubt laboriously ended up home somehow. He glanced down to the source of the stink- his clothes from last night that he was still wearing. Brilliant start to the morning. But how- how did he end up crashing on the bean bag- because he was on the bean bag, the one in the corner of his room under the window.

He lurched up and found his answer as he tripped over a discarded shoe- one discarded shoe to be exact- the other one was still on him. He must have fallen asleep mid de-shoeing? If- If that was even a word. But what were words anyway… Terrible- bothersome pieces of shit that conveyed nothing but shit between people- fucking noise- who needed them…

His throat was dry. His head hurt. And his mind was nagging him with things he didn’t quite understand yet. Or maybe just things he didn’t want to hear yet. He didn’t want it there either way. Bitterly he reflected on the supposed benefits of chilling that he listed to himself yesterday. What a web of sticky lies he had told himself. The day was already too long and he had just woken up. If that was relaxation how was he not dead by now? He nodded to himself with a moody seriousness as if that was a real question that should be entertained.

He peeled off his scummy shell of clothing. A shower- that would fix everything- or at least fix some of it.

He shuffled in, flipped the knob, and hoped for the best. But even under the steam and the suds, his mind was still brewing away- talking about things and shuffling through files. His thoughts weren’t even all about Shane- even though that was part of it. The thoughts- the most noxious and confusing ones were about himself. Like vapors they swirled around him- and pushed in and out of his body with his breath.

Shane alone. That bugged him. That bugged him deeply. It was hazy but all the feelings that he had been to drunk too process in the moment were making themselves known in a painful manner. It had just been a simple moment- a small fragment of Shane’s existence- nothing more. And of course Shane was alone- what else would he be. It was absurd to feel this way about it- to read things into it. He knew nothing about what was really going on with Shane. Who knows- maybe that’s just what Shane does at night- his routine or something. Who the fuck knows how Shane lives his life- certainly not him. Ha. Right. _Certainly not him._

He fumbled with the soap bar. He still hadn’t gotten the better soap he’d told himself he would go and buy. God could he do nothing.

He dejectedly put the bar back on the built-in shower shelf and leaned against the wall- the hot water running down his arm. He should have said something more when he was with Shane. He should have done something more. It was becoming more and more apparent in Ryan’s irrational mind- that something had to be done. If he could just figure out the how and why- if he just knew what it was that Shane needed- what Shane wanted- he just needed to do something more. Because if he didn’t then what if it wasn’t enough- what if Shane continued to live alone- what if he continued to live alone too- what if things went backwards- what if he really couldn’t deal with whatever it was- what if he didn’t understand- what if he _did_ understand-

His pulse was up in his head- the internal quake of everything rattling him. He was seized with the sudden idea to get out- to slap open the shower door- to throw on the closest pair of clothes- and to run through the campus until he was out of breath.

He bent his head down under the spray.

Who was he kidding- he couldn’t even breathe as it was and he was standing still. His head was swimming and his eyes were probably redder then a chili pepper- or least they felt like they were. Running would do nothing to unscrew this knot- no amount of running would work- because deep down he knew that he didn’t want to run… and that- that was it’s own fucking matter.

The steady stream of the shower rained down on him and he forced himself to focus- to concentrate on the rhythmic drops falling on his head- the water skimming down his back. The sensation returned to him- the feeling of holding Shane’s hand as they ran like fucking mad for the car. The joy- the sheer fucking bliss- filled him. And he found himself holding on to that- clinging to it for dear life- every fragment of how it was to be with him in that moment. And God- God fucking damn it- it was real this time… it was real this time…

Why did he keep on coming back to this- like a criminal to the fucking scene of the crime- how many times was he going to be hit with how much he felt for him before it would stop. He had accepted it- or a least he thought he had- he wasn’t- well he wasn’t trying to fight it. Did acceptance not have anything to do with it- with feeling better about it- with alleviating it?

Identifying the problem is the first step to fixing it- Isn’t that what they say? But who even are “they” and how do they know. Fixing- that was a word used for problems. And- this- well was this a problem? It hurt like a fucking problem. It drove him mad like a fucking problem. But- but it wasn’t a problem… He knew that. It was just complicated as hell and how it made him feel was complicated. He had lived a simple life- avoiding things- just trying to make a path- and he wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to having to deal with every bit of his body and soul fighting to grow to meet someone else’s. It couldn’t be fixed- shouldn’t be fixed. It was just something that was- and what it was, was painful. 

“You think he’d want you to go through that- hurting?”

Lightening at point blank range. The cutting edge of what was eating him alive. Nothing about Shane was simple- how he talked- how he acted- what he wrote- what he thought about and did- heck even how Ryan felt about him was daunting and confusing. It wasn’t simple. It just wasn’t. It couldn’t have been. A half-truth- a cold hard lie- it just wasn’t the truth that was for sure- and that was the reason why… why it hadn’t been…

Things were getting dangerous. Hot do or die emotions were coming up. Ideas to do rash things and make stupid proposals. He had touched the stove- no need to hold his hand on it- no need to melt himself to ash- to remind himself of all the times he hadn’t been good enough… Boundaries and objectivity- Ryan had never been especially good at them. He knew that.

Calm down. Don’t panic. Be a whole complete person. Independent and in control. Yeah. Do something rational for once instead of just stewing. What would a healthy normal person do in this situation- consider that- or better fucking yet do that.

He got out of the shower, got dressed, and went to the corner store to buy the better soap- or wash- or something. He had landed upon a soft pine scent or whatever “Coastal Redwood” supposedly smells like. The bottle was nice- rounded edges- clean font. Did it really smell better or was it just the packaging? The real hard questions of life on a Tuesday morning.

He avoided the coffee shop- in fact avoided that whole side of campus- as if he went too close he would see more unwelcome visions. He needed distance. He needed a strategy. He laid back in his cramped seat in lecture and thought about the bagels. That was good. But better- he needed to be better. Where would someone like Shane be at home? Where would he like to go?

He covertly started googling ideas in lecture. Apart of him smiled to himself in self-congratulation. He always knew there was a reason why he sat against the wall. His finger became restless as he scrolled. The ideas were good- picnic- concert- beach- but it just wasn’t- it wasn’t- he couldn't put his finger on it.

A text alert crossed his screen. His eyes jumped to the preview.

“Your Painting Order is Ready for Pick up!”

He hastily clicked on the message and scrolled down to the attached image- and god was it cute. It was perfect, with it’s little feathered whiskers and tangerine fur, exactly like it’s fuzzy inspiration. His spirits soared. Sad? What was that- it’s gone. And the painting- yes- the painting was everything- and Shane would love it- AND-

Divine intervention- divine inspiration- hit him. Paintings. Fucking art. A museum- no better- a modern museum. Yes- Yes- very smart. Classy. Intellectual. Relaxed. Good job.

The classic two moods: utter feelings of worthlessness followed directly by supreme sensations of genius. See, things weren’t that different. It had just been a normal mood swing. Yes, no need for concern. He proceeded to spend the rest of the lecture researching the best places to go, working out the details of who was showing what and why it was relevant to go there and the plan was settled.

First, he would have to clean out his little lawnmower of a car. This was his date idea- so no Shane driving them anywhere. Second, text Shane. That was a given- but like actually text Shane- and not in an “oh I was thinking- that maybe- haha- you like art or something- we could see some together,” type of way but in an “I want to go out on a legit date with you,” type of way. So, that was going to take some hyping up to do- so block out the whole afternoon for that. Third, get the painting, wrap the painting, and stash the painting in the car. Easy enough. Fourth, read up on the exhibit- yes read a book about it like Shane would- beat him to the punch. Fifth, take Shane on the date in question. Have a good time- make a good impression- maybe get him to actually talk about himself- maybe kiss him. And finally, Sixth, live happily ever after or something.

It was fool proof. He should know. He was a fool.

As soon as lectures got out for the day he began drafting out his message. After a lot of flipping back and forth between wikihows, having three successive crises, and drinking a grand sum of three bottles of water- one for each crisis- he came up with it.

“Hey! I had such a good time with you at the market and was wondering if we could go on a date together to the Modern. They are showing Kandinsky’s later work, and I thought it would be fun to see it with you :)”

Never had he written such a bold statement. He copy and pasted it in from his notes into the message bar and pressed send. It felt like a trap door had just fallen out from under him. He collapsed back into the same bean bag he had woken up in- sinking into the familiar pocket of lumpy padding. About a minute went by and his phone went off. He didn’t fall out of his seat this time. But he was so jumpy he could of.

“I would love to go on another date with you!”

Another date- _Another date_ \- He got up and walked around the room with his hands on his head. Validation was the most underrated drug in the world.

“What day were you thinking- I’m free the whole day on Thursday- does that sound okay for you Ry :)?”

_Ry?_ Fuck- fuck- fuck- okay be chill- calm down.

“Yes! That sounds great- my lecture was actually canceled on Thursday- what are the odds?”

There were no odds. The lecture hadn’t been canceled. But you know if he wasn’t there it was like it never happened so- same difference.

“Sounds perfect!”

There were beams of light everywhere. Ryan read those two words over and over. And it did- it did sound perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats to Ryan!!! He did it <3333


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehe I'm so glad I was able to get this chapter out (it's 2:30 in the morning and like?? what are words anymore so I apologize for any Lil mistakes :P)
> 
> So!!! things are heating up!! and opening up!!! maybeeee :)))))))))))))
> 
> THanKs so mUcH for being so wonderful- like honestly- :DDDDDDDDDD

The day was cloudless and bright. The temperature was already climbing into the higher eighties. Very soon, it would be instant tan levels of hot. Yes, too much exposure to be humane at 10:30 am on a Thursday morning. Ryan hid behind his shades and considered himself fortunate for selecting an air-conditioned and temperature-controlled hub of culture as the destination of the day. It couldn’t have been any better- the perfect impetus for hiding indoors- this heat.

As he pulled his decade-old car up to the back of Calypso’s, he impulsively revaluated everything that had happened so far- as nothing had happened- or well nothing bad that is. While he had told himself that his plan was genius- he still in the back of his mind was expecting something to fail or breakdown along the way. But nothing had. And now he was posed to have a great day. It almost felt unnatural.

Had his life just been such a disaster that he didn’t know how it felt to know what was going on? And he did- or at least he was going to know what was going on. He had read that book that he had promised himself he would on Kandinsky- or well flipped through it- and he for once had something to say and he was going to say it intelligently. Mental bullet points about the “use of color” and the importance of “geometric form” were crammed into his head and sticking out his ears.

Speak to him on his level and he’ll speak to you on his. Definitely, a masterful idea. It’s not prying if it’s mutual right? Or something-

The back door to Calypso’s opened and Shane popped his head out. Ryan couldn’t help but lean forward to get a better look through the windshield. How could Shane make even the most neutral of basics look good- he couldn’t fathom it- but it was true. Somehow the way the sleeves of his light beige shirt were folded against his forearms and how his sage green skinny jeans clung to his legs was just… Ryan’s sunglasses slipped down to the point of his nose from the staring.

In a startled lunge, Ryan hastily reached over and threw open the passenger door as Shane bounded up. In a quick but surprisingly coordinated swing of his long leg- Shane ducked into the car.

“Ready to go look at some funky little squiggles?” Shane beamed, making mock brush movements with his hands.

“Sure thing my man,“ Ryan said, while smugly flicking on the aux, and pulling out onto the road.

Chaotic classical melodies floated out of the speakers, and Shane’s already bright face got even brighter with vague recognition.

“The Rite of Spring?” Shane asked.

Ryan was thankful it was a question- for once he might be the expert on something- even if that expertise consisted of a couple of hastily watched YouTube videos.

“Yeah- I thought it might be fun to listen to something like this- cause you know like Kandinsky had synesthesia and he ah- he painted to it- to Tchaikovsky.”

Shane nodded- impressed- or hopefully impressed. Honestly, Ryan didn’t know what an impressed Shane would look like- but he was exuberant about it- so that was something.

“You go to the museum often I take it?” Shane said eager.

“Well-“ Ryan hadn’t been to a museum in at least two years, “I do like art a lot.”

Nice- Vague- and not entirely untrue- right? Starry Night- he had that as a backpack pin- and he liked films so that was art too- err-

“Oh that’s dope man- what’s like your jam- you know what gets you going?” Shane was way more into this than anticipated- Ryan almost was unsure how to handle it.

“Ah- Well-“ Ryan drummed the steering wheel, “I ah- I like the use of color-“ Yes, go back to the bullet points. “Y’know when like an artist has a real grasp of how color makes people feel.” 

Shane nodded sagely, “So, you like Kubrick.”

Kubrick- how did the conversation turn to him. He had a script for Kandinsky- and where did Shane get off making that- which should have been a question- into a statement?

“Uh yeah actually- I do,” Ryan replied, unsure of how Shane had so quickly, and accurately, snapped those pieces together. “I like how he- ah- makes the character both stand out and also immersed in the environment. Yeah- and like you are y’know right like color has a lot to do- a lot to do about it…” He bit the inside of his cheek unaware that his bullet points would actually have relevance to him.

“Red Rum-“ Shane pondered, “Even the catchphrase or I guess- I don’t know- spooky slogan of the Shining- references color. Red equals blood. Blood equals murder. So, for the first- what- first half or third of the movie or something- sorry I haven’t seen it in a while- the audience in some part of the back of their heads knows that Red Rum is probably violent in nature- and then, of course, it is,” He paused, stretching his hand over his mouth thoughtfully, “Hmm- but- well I guess though that was also Steven King- or rather it was Steven King- I guess never mind scratch that point. It’s mute- or something- I don’t know. What do you think?”

They were off the script. It was devolving into pure- terrifying improv. Flashbacks to the conversation about writing that they had in the pavilion were darting around. And Shane had that same look on his face of keen and absorbed thought. It was an expression that required a good reply. Ryan’s mind was becoming a swamp- or maybe that was just him. Shane’s presence was still a lot to handle- and the fact that this was a legit date this time wasn’t helping matters.

“Ah-“ He croaked, wringing his thoughts out for any drop of juice, “Ah- I guess- maybe he just likes to pick color based films- like uh- Clockwork Orange?”

Shane hummed with keen interest, “You could be onto something there!”

Ryan’s heart was doing funny things in his chest. He could feel himself smiling uncontrollably- bubbly at Shane’s approval.

“And- and- well it’s related to ah-“ Ryan snapped his fingers trying to grasp at ideas, “Like you said about Red Rum and red being related to violence- like Hal’s lil computer eye from Space Odyssey is red too. And of course, he ends up being a bad and evil little fuck- or well- just not nice to humanity at large. So, red again etc.”

“Huh-” Shane murmured introspectively, “I’d never considered the color of his- or its- eye. I guess I was watching from too much of a narrative perspective to notice- like you know- do humans deserve death and what responsibilities do we owe to- I guess to the things we create... to the things we put out into the world… and how can we deal with being our own greatest threats to ourselves...” Shane’s even reflective tone fluttered with nerves, “And- and- you know,” He laughed, “Ah all that… You like modern art though?”

“For sure- yeah-“ Ryan blinked, taking the question probably more seriously than it was meant- as if Shane could sniff the lack of culture on him. “I like it- ah do you?”

Shane sighed- not a bad sigh- but it was something. It had an inflection in it. “Yeah- I mean I like most modern art- ah- like I mean I love art-“ There was a sound of rallied enthusiasm in his voice, that rang flatly through the air. He corrected his posture a bit. “I mean- Modern art is probably my favorite- over classical- I guess I’m just not used to classical. It so bourgeoisie- that like- I don’t really know how I feel or how to even look at it- without like thinking about other things. I suppose that means I ought to look at it more I just haven’t gotten around to it. I haven’t even got around to going to the Modern here yet- so ah yeah-”

"Bourgeoisie?" Ryan repeated, the actual whole word sounding strange to his ears

Shane shifted around a little bit more. "Ah- well you know- I guess it's not like Modern art isn't too. I guess. It's just that the ideals really- I mean I said that I probably just need to reevaluate stuff. It's just sometimes I look at like classical art and think about all the people it represents and the things it glorifies- I guess that's why I do like the Dutch masters the most and well the impressionist too- and well I'm sure some others- like the jury is still out. It just bothers me how much people like to elevate it over other forms of art- like why the fuck are Roman sculptures in the art section while indigenous art is in the fucking 'archeology' section- it's just so self-congratulatory- I mean like I don't want to burn it or something like I don't believe in any 'perpetual revolution' but like at some point it's irresponsible to give it so much credit." 

He paused in consideration. "Well- I guess when I think about it Modern art is guilty of stuff too- just in different ways. Like it is definitely more inclusive and more forward-thinking and responsible- but it can be so damned inaccessible- unless you have gone through the education needed to know what you're looking at. And sometimes even then- even after you have educated yourself- shit still doesn't make sense. Like the fucking just squares of color- you know Rothko-" 

Ryan didn't but there was no way he was interrupting this so he merely nodded. 

"Well yeah- I always felt guilty when I would walk in and see Rothko hanging in the permanent exhibit in Chicago. Like I feel like a windows screen saver has more impactful emotion in it than that- no matter how many people say that they can feel ‘the silence of God’ or whatever when they look at it. I guess that makes me a part of the uncultured masses- or something- but if it does- then doesn't that by default make Rothko elite- if it is mandatory that you have to be cultured to understand it? And I mean I guess his paintings do get a rise out of me- even if it’s a negative one- so I’ll give him that- he evoked an emotion- but like his fucking squares cost upwards of 20 million dollars." 

"Think about all the things you could do with 20 million dollars that would have more impact and more meaning then a blank canvas painted grey. And even if his art did have meaning- real meaning- at some point, it got washed out by a greater system- the fucking art business- that only elevates the art that no normal person can afford... and then like they turn around and sell us like- I don't know- posters of Van Gogh's sunflowers at Target for 25 bucks and tell us to be satisfied... or tell us to get a t-shirt in the gift shop..." 

"I- I guess it's not really the art, for the most part, that I have a problem with. It's really the culture that's built by the rich regarding what is to be valued- and you know all the 'respected' journals and reviewers and critics that perpetuate their ideas... But like I said- I- the jury is still out on a lot of things- I guess I have a lot of thoughts but I don't know what I think... I guess I'm only so keyed up about it cause I love art so much and value it- and I love going to see it- and I just tend to over-analyze stuff I care about... or something..." 

His voice was imbued with emotion. It was raw. There was a break in conversation as both of them tried to come up with something to say- something to move past this- because it was clear Shane wanted to. 

"So- ah- you have never been to the Modern here?" Ryan implored.

“Uh- yeah- no actually. I used to go to stuff like that all the time- as I don’t know- a place to go. A ah- second living room type of thing-“ Shane’s hands spun with his ramblings like a wheel, “Like- well the apartment was pretty small and believe it or not a membership to the museum was ah- cheaper than- well let's be fucking realistic- one more square foot of space. So I would just go and walk around and take the tours and whatever. Some interesting stuff- to be seen- out there,” He corrected his course. “Anyways, I have been too busy recently to really think about it- about going- I guess trying to get the shop up and get familiar with everything- it’s been so- hectic- so ah- thank-you- like I really mean it. I don’t know how long it would have taken me to go back to going to museums- if- if you hadn’t suggested it.”

Shane smiled softly at him and Ryan felt like he was the only one in the world- like he was being seen and appreciated- truly so. And even though Shane was thanking him, he was struck with the idea that he was the one that should be doing the thanking. He too would have never got himself together enough to go out to museums either if it had just been up to him. It was ironic, actually, in how wanting to do things for Shane was affecting him. He’d done more deep- and truly deep- thinking, reading, and feeling in the past two weeks then he had done in the last year. All the hurt too, and all the moments of acute internal suffering and paranoia, it somehow felt better now.

“Don’t-“ Ryan had to pull his eyes away from him to speak properly. “Don’t mention it man- I- It’s no fun anyway- to go alone...”

Shane didn’t make a sound. A nerve was struck. Alone. Fuck.

“I- I mean- like man-“ Ryan scrambled, “I wanted to go with you- You seem to know so much about this kinda stuff- and like I thought it would be cool to hear- what you- like thought- well like it would be so much better with you- like everything is better with yo-“

He stopped short- and the hurt and the moments of suffering and paranoia did not feel better.

Shane’s face was stunned and blank, like a screen that just had its power cord yanked out or a drink spilled on it. Blue screen vibes. Crackling static.

“Ha ah-“ Ryan sweated. The lack of noise except for the music absolutely unyielding. He was being boiled alive. Say something- say anything- what were they even talking about- color- movies- the Shining-

“So ah-” He coughed, “Like you know something else about the Shining like- well I guess some people- well I guess fans know it. I mean I like Kubrick- but he was a total a-hole on the set- uncalled for- so I guess I’m not a fan. I like his work but not like- well whatever you get it- but like when you look really closely at that movie- like there’s a pretty- I would say good- case for the moon landing being faked.”

There was a beat of silence, and Shane flickered, suddenly alert and resurrected.

Ryan’s eyes lit up, realizing he could finally have a potential audience, “Like when you look up the numbers and stuff in the story- and like the sweater on y’know the fucking little kid- Danny- it’s- it’s a rocket ship man and-“

Ryan paused. Shane was shaking his head vehemently and growing increasingly agitated.

“No.” Shane said aghast, “No- like- just what the fuck Ryan- No! Good? No?”

“I’m not even through with the-“

“Get the fuck out of here Ryan with that bullshit!” Shane's voice cracked with disbelief- while he gestured wildly.

“Don’t you- Don’t you-“ Ryan couldn’t finish- wheezing out of his god damn mind at the hysterically livid expression on Shane’s face.

“No- No- I don’t.” Shane made a dramatic flick of his hand, “Don’t you try to ruin one of the greatest horror movies of all time by debasing it-“

Ryan’s laughter grew louder- absolutely manic from the cold water seriousness of Shane’s face.

Ryan tried to make something coherent out of his breathless sputtering, “But- but- it’s like-“

“It’s not like anything- because it’s nothing.” Shane insisted, “I will stab you- I will stab you in real life- if you keep this shit up- and you won’t ever get to do anything with me again- except die- would you like that Ryan? Would you like that fate?”

Ryan was giggling so much he could barely drive.

“Fake moon landing of all the yarns to spin you chose that one?” Shane’s brows were nearly at his hairline. “You chose that hill to die on- words mean things Ryan- movies mean things- and it’s not fucking that!”

“Well I just thou-“

“No, you didn’t think! How could you? You little tin foil hat bastard- Our turn!“

“Oh shit!” Ryan swerved to get off the highway and to the exit for the museum district, narrowly missing several cars and barely making it.

“You see how fucking irresponsible it is to bring up shit like that-“ Shane sulked, with a comedically overblown air of disappointment as they pulled up into the street adjacent to the Modern, “We could have missed our turn.”

Ryan was still trying to get a handle of his jittery breath. It took him until they were pulling into their parking spot to finally calm down. As he took the key out of the ignition he mumbled something.

“What?” Shane said, still in attack mode.

“I mean we could have missed our turn… but like… what if we miss the truth.“

Shane’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as they got out of the car. “Let’s just go look at some lines man- not do any- Kandinsky is fucking trippy enough man can we agree on that.”

Ryan looked up in utter bliss. Tall- gangly- and irritated- Shane was fucking beautiful. The car hadn’t done him the same favors the sun was doing, playing upon his unjustly lush hair. Ryan felt a knot forming in his throat.

“Yeah- Yeah-“ He choked, “I- I think I agree…”

Agree came out his mouth off-key. So yeah- Shane looks hot- mark that down. Can’t be caught forgetting that again. Dangerous- fatal even- to make such a mistake. Together they blazed a path through the blistering parking lot and into the safety of the exhibit halls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shane "eat the rich" Madej


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heheheheheh so- *jazz hands* a big storms ah coming

Concrete, clean, and muted, the walls and floors of the museum radiated a diffuse coldness down onto them- like they had stepped into a quiet natural cavern filled with sacred pools and strange murmurings. The noon daylight was blocked from entry into the triple story high atrium by a series of obtrusive external columns and overhangings- ensuring that the coolness was uniform and uninterrupted. There were glimpses of people moving around in the surrounding areas- but the floor where they were was empty- with the exception of a twisted crumple of metal that had a plaque in front of it, which no doubt denoted the cultural necessity of the crumple’s prominent placement.

“Real cathedral isn't it,” Shane noted irreverently, gesturing upwards, for the first time looking small in the context of his surroundings.

“Religious,” Ryan replied, his voice echoing.

“Suppose they need to impress us with something,” Shane nodded, casting a burning glance across the floor towards the crumple as if to melt it out of existence.

So, the critic at work. While he had spoken with passion about it in the car- seeing it play out was something different. Even if it was just a look, the heat with which those articles had been written became apparent- and Ryan felt sad for the crumple. It couldn’t help what it was- even if it was ugly. But then Ryan remembered the 20 million dollar squares- 20 million dollar crumple? His gaze too turned skeptical.

They proceeded to the front desk and got outfitted with tickets and maps and fliers for this and that. More papers than was necessary. Impress us with something- yes- how many trees they cut down. Shane had thought to ask about tours- which was unfortunate- Ryan had hoped to avoid tours. He had wanted to show Shane around the museum, not have them be led around by a qualified expert. However, instead of an expert, they were shoved little pairs of disposable earbuds and audio packs.

“No tours on weekdays.” The attended announced, unamused that they had even asked.

Shane seemed disappointed but not surprised at her cold statement and demeanor. And as they wandered away he mumbled something about the misuse of funds, interactivity being essential to understanding art, and something- again- directed at the crumple. Ryan didn’t mind- despite Shane’s grumblings. If things got awkward they could just play the recorded summaries of the paintings- and maybe he could throw in some facts here and there. It was perfect actually- he was pleased.

Also- how was it possible for someone to look so cute and so irritated at the same time. It was nice to know that Shane had a passion- perhaps- maybe that was it- why his irritations seemed so irresistible. Reassurance bubbled up in Ryan’s chest. Shane did in fact care for things. The conversation in the car returned to him. He hadn’t realized it in the moment- despite Shane practically spelling it out- but that was the whole crux for that spiel- the impetus- that Shane cared deeply.

So what was it? Had everything he had written before about life being pointless a lie? Or was it half-truths? Or was it something else? Was this caring something new? And why now- why now of all times- why had it been brought out? It wasn’t even a question of honesty or dishonesty anymore- it was the question of why- the big general why that covered everything in sight- from the internal workings to the external results. Shane was a total contradiction from almost any way he looked at him- an optical illusion of a man- an endless loop…

They proceeded to the gallery- following the numbered route on their guide. First stop, _Several Circles_. And it was indeed, several circles. Black background. Bright colors. Bubbly forms. Ryan pressed play on his little machine and a British lady's voice came on.

“Ryan-“

“Hmm-“ He fumbled to get the already snagging earbuds off.

“My thing doesn’t work.” Shane shook it- as if it was an empty cereal box.

“Oh- I’ll go to the fron-“

“No- No-“ Shane assured, “I’ll go- you stay I’ll-“

“No- I’ll-“ Ryan could feel this stupid conflict already getting awkwardly out of hand, “Why- Why don’t we just share?”

Shane blinked.

“One for you- One for me-“ Ryan held out the bud.

Why did this seem so strangely serious? Shane hesitated, but took it from his hand.

“Thanks- but I can-“

“Just enjoy the exhibit.”

Shane quieted- like it hadn’t occurred to him to just enjoy it before- no matter how much he had urged Ryan to just go in and look at some “funky little lines” it didn’t seem like they were just lines now- not as they laid in front of them- not in the context of their surroundings. The vibes were different- somehow the currents had been switched or muddied. It was odd- cold even. Somehow it had happened without Ryan noticing- or at least not noticing until this moment- that a switch had been flipped. Shane seemed aware of it too- trying desperately to unflip it- to act normal and not however he clearly was feeling- which as almost always was unreadable. Were there other reasons other than just time constraints- that had prevented Shane from coming here…

“Ah- Thanks,” Shane finally mumbled, shuffling closer into Ryan and shoving the earbud in, looking vaguely chastised.

Ryan folded a little into himself as Shane inched even closer next to him. He hadn’t meant to be critical. Perhaps he should have just let Shane go to the front. God this wasn’t supposed to be awkward. Just press play- press play- move on- the woman’s voice started over.

_“Necessary to understanding the life work of Kandinsky- is understanding his past… Kandinsky was raised in the-”_

What did this have to do with circles? Never mind, pay attention idiot.

_“-Ukraine and came from an upper-class family. This impacted Kandinsky’s life trajectory significantly. While fascinated by color as a child, and with psychological impacts of color as a young adult-“_

Blah- Blah- what about the circles?

_“-he instead, initially chose the more stable and reliable career of law to pursue- instead of fine art…”_

Okay… Ryan rubbed the side of the box

_“…He studied in many fields and was a great success at economics. He was lauded as a genius and had a promising future in teaching- however- he was terribly depressed with the confining and uncreative nature of his life. Consequently, he abandoned it all suddenly at the age of 30- to the shock of his colleagues and family…“_

Sirens. Literal ear-piercing sirens.

_“Dismantling his former existence- he fled from the enclosed environment of his home country- in search of a new place to develop his art and his new lifestyle. Eventually, he arrived in Munich and started anew…”_

Shane wasn’t moving- wasn’t flinching or saying a word- but- but dear god. This was “In The Mood For Love” all over again. Except worse. Instead of “why don’t we just give in and kiss”- this time it was “why don’t you just fess up to me and tell me everything- you fuck.” Shane’s proximity was almost too much to bear. The light touches of their shoulders as they brushed against each other just- fuck- he should have actually read that book- not just flipped through it. Maybe then he could have avoided… but how could he have anticipated this? Did Shane know this beforehand- well probably- he _was_ Shane. But did he think it was somewhat intentional? That it was on purpose? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The recording flipped off. He had missed whatever she had eventually said about the circles- or how it all tied together.

“What do you think he listened to when he painted this?” Shane asked with a sourceless urgency- everything about him conveying keen interest- but none of it lining up- his voice stripped bare of emotion.

“I- I” Ryan stumbled around, fidgeting with the box, his fingers glancing off buttons, “Something- punchy?”

“Punchy?” Shane breathlessly followed.

“Like- ah” Ryan pointed and made gestures, “You know a quiet black- ah background- and you know hits- hits- of color- explosive but harmonious…”

Ryan was surprised that he had even come up with something that intelligent to say considering things. Was he a work under pressure guy? Because this- this was pressure. Something in his face must have shown it too- the strain- as there was a brief break of silence. Shane became sheepish. There were no more questions. No follow-ups. Just silence.

So… maybe Shane hadn’t known… beforehand… about Kandinsky…

They moved to the next painting- like nothing had happened. But something definitely had happened. He could literally feel Shane thinking- and it wasn’t about the paintings either- or maybe it was- but only as they were an artifact of himself. Ryan glanced down the hall. Three more rooms of this. Hellish. The paintings themselves and the accompanying audio became much more riveting as they went along. Maybe because emotions were strangely high- or maybe because they were literally joined at the hip to one another and looking anywhere else would imply looking at each other- but regardless the lines and blobs of color were becoming more surreal by the minute. 

They were somewhere in the final room before Shane finally said something.

“Dreamy,” He said, pointing to the curves of the pieces, “Interesting, how rounded it is and how this one- this one is pastel. All the other’s have been strongly in primaries. His mental state was probably different when he painted this.”

His voice was too soft and too small for the large and cold room.

“Yeah-“ Ryan replied, “There’s no ah- uniform background color either-“

“It’s a gradient-“ Shane finished, “You’re right… I didn’t even notice that… I guess that’s why they use inkblots in psychology or something… y’know the difference in what people see in abstract things…”

They sat and looked at it some more- and Shane slowly but finally relaxed- as if just saying something- anything- had eased his mind- like he had done something proactive. But in reality, it did nothing to truly fix things. The rest of the exhibit went by quietly, and soon they were back out in the main atrium feeling just the same.

Ryan’s feet stalled underneath him. Good god- were they really going to end on this note- he couldn’t- he wouldn’t allow it. He stopped and ruffled through the map of the museum.

“Uh-“ Ryan interjected, folding down the creases, “Next we could- we could- go around the gift shop- or maybe- well the upstairs-“ He folded some more edges down. “-upstairs there’s the permanent stuff.”

“Hmm- yes- yes- I suppose we could…”

Ryan looked up surprised at how far away Shane’s voice sounded. Somehow in the few moments in which it had taken him to turn the map right side up- Shane had wandered nearly all the way to the back wall of the atrium and, currently, was looking out through the massive glass windows to the park below.

Ryan followed his line of sight through the windows, down the rolling hill that led away from the museum to the adjacent reflection pool and open garden. Across from the reflection pool there was a massive sculpture of two silver trees twisting into each other- their limbs intertwining like branches of intersecting lightening. Shane’s eyes flicked up and down at the sculpture- his hand pressed against his mouth softly- melancholic.

“We can- or ah could go outside?” Ryan said, trying to tangentially read what Shane was thinking.

Shane’s gaze instantly jumped from the sculpture back to him. His movement stopped as soon as they locked eyes- almost as if he was surprised to see Ryan still there.

“Ah yes-“ Shane brightened, “It would- would be nice to get some fresh air.”

Fresh Air. That was one way of putting things- a good way of saying it- they needed to escape these vibes.

And so they did- slipping out of one of the back doors- and even though the heat was enough to make the grass dim- it was nice in it’s own way. The museum was almost too cold- too something in general- too stay in. It was lively out here. It was open. It was gentle. Beyond the reflection pool there was the general park that backed up into the botanical gardens. And on the long stretch of lawn, there were groups of picnickers and vendors of different things selling stuff from their bicycles and children running around.

They strolled down the path and around to the tree line, where most of the vendors were. The shade was welcome and eventually Shane- who had been leading them mostly on this outdoor excursion- stopped in front of a small fruit stand filled with oranges. The air around it was heavy with the sugary smell of blossoms and of peels and it was a good feeling to breathe in the scent.

“You like it here?” Shane suddenly asked, picking up an orange.

“Sure man I mean-”

Ryan stopped short as Shane suddenly smiled at the vendor. “Two-“ He glanced quickly at Ryan, “You do like oranges?”

“Yes,” Ryan said quietly, “Yes I do,”

“Grand,” Shane said, busily picking out another. “Yes- thanks- we’ll have these,”

Ryan stood on the sidelines as there was a brief exchange of money and thanks and oranges. His eyes fixated on Shane throughout the whole process- inquisitive and filled with thoughts. Shane made no acknowledgment- remaining nonchalant- as if he had said nothing.

“For you,” He said, handing him one, “And for me,” He flicked his slightly in the air before catching it softly.

Ryan looked onwards at him puzzled, while palming the fruit, feeling the texture of it’s glossy skin against his fingers. A strange sentiment filled him. Shane was continuing to act unbothered, unpeeling his orange and picking out a wedge. Ryan stood still for a moment, trying to grasp every movement and every expression that Shane had made- straining to unearth even just an edge of what he was on about.

“You’re not eating your orange-“ Shane pointed out matter of factly, “I can’t be sticky and covered in juice alone- crimes have to be done together.”

Ryan began peeling as they slowly walked up the street, to a shady bench they found to rest their legs.

“I guess-“ Shane began again suddenly. “Well what I should have asked is why did you ask me- ah out- to here? What makes this place special for you?”

Ryan opened his mouth to say something- what he wasn’t sure- but Shane’s hand went up.

“That was a stupid question to- I’m sorry- I’m just- well I was just thinking…” Shane twisted the fruit in his hand, “How- how different but then also the same that place is you know.”

“Same to what?”

“Same as Chicago’s Modern.“ Shane murmured, “At first, like when we first came in, I didn’t think it was at all similar- but I guess it’s kind of like airports- no matter how different they look or feel they still smell of the tarmac.”

The tarmac. Ryan wanted to avoid asking too many questions- but- but- he knew what Shane was talking about- or at least knew enough to want to know more. The indescribable something that had been hanging around- whatever had flipped the switch before the true nastiness had even reared it’s head- the strange panic about the earbuds.

“I know- it’s- like I said- or you said- or maybe you never said-“ Shane began his gaze dancing around, “I am sort of a tall guy- long- and you know big hair and sharp kind of eyes- beady. I used to wear a lot of turtlenecks- black ones too- terrible.”

Where on earth was he going with this. Shane messed with the orange skin.

“Yes- uh- terrible turtlenecks- and you know glasses that were a bit too harsh for my face- black n’ thick-rimmed- and I would slump around with- well with sort of a look- around places- places like that… and look at stuff… It was kind of more than just a second living room thing- it was- y’know it was a public place to go and not have to be home….” He stopped himself, “And it’s well- well I know I can look a- ah certain way- act a certain way. I have- or did have- I-“ He pulled his hand to his mouth and turned towards the distance. “I- y’know sometimes things get tangled up in other stuff and it’s difficult to go about untangling them and I know I said this in the car- but… but thanks… really for taking the trouble to bring me here… I wouldn’t have done it alone and I- I think I needed it- more than I thought… so thank-you… and I’m sorry for- for- well being as I am…”

“It- It-“ Ryan stumbled, “It wasn’t a trouble- you- you’re not a trouble to me.”

Shane didn’t even address that statement, his feet shifting on the ground in total disbelief. Ryan could feel himself starting to lose his grip. The clear and absolute vacuum of pain inside Shane was so blindingly apparent. _To not have to be home._ Christ. Going through that place must have been… to even accept at all and then mustering the energy to be happy about it- excited and willing to share- and then just to be hit with…

“…You’re way out of my league Shane...” Ryan admitted with a whisper, “You’re apologizing to me- when I’m the one that should be thanking you- for even- for even giving me the time of day.”

Shane stopped breathing- stopped doing anything.

“I- I” Ryan stumbled on, his voice and anxieties gaining traction. “I won’t pretend to know that much about you- and that’s fine- it’s just- that what little I know about you- I know that you are- well you just are out of my league Shane… that’s all… and you deserve so much more than what I can offer you…”

“If you know so little how do you know that?” Shane said with brutal logic.

“Man do you need me to spell it out for you again? Except this time add to it every single success you’ve had in your life- I would be here till tomorrow for fucks sake-” Ryan cried, “You’re fucking amazing man!”

“And you’re not?” Shane said bluntly, as if that refuted everything Ryan had just said.

“Well…” Ryan felt a microscopic crack cutting him clean down the middle, “No, I wouldn’t say I have been… or am… but that’s not the poin-”

“- Can you even hear yourself talk?” Shane cut, “You’re- You’re actin' like you’re nothing Ry! I don’t like to hear you talk like that-“

“Your one to talk!”

“What?” Shane burst, “I didn’t say anything like that-”

“You didn’t accept what I said at all- you’re not a trouble- or a bother or a fucking burden Shane- I’m lucky to even be here with you.”

Shane laid stunned, “No- that’s- you’re-“

“No!” Ryan grasped at the air, “You’re not being objective I mean like in an average group of people I’d do fine. Like I’d make the cut- hit par. But like you…” He leaned forward as if proximity would make himself better understood, “You’re not like other people- you’re- you’re-“ His mind overran with words, “you’re… well different… different from anyone I have met- anyone I have ever-“ The fateful word almost tumbled out, “You’re just different and that’s all I have to say about it.”

Shane looked at him- not saying a word- just looking.

Ryan began to bounce his leg. Words built up in his mouth. “And you don’t even know it either- or if you do- you don’t like it- and- and I’m here to tell you that I don’t give one single fuck about whatever hang-ups you have about who you are or aren’t or you think you ought to be- I want you to know that you are not- nor will you ever be a burden to me.“

Shane’s hand trembled trying to take out another wedge, trying to retain some semblance of control, but failing. “I’m not a success in any- well any real meaning of the word… In fact-“ He took a deep breath, “I guess you know- just don’t know- I mean you say that I don’t- but I think that you’re actually a much better person than you think you are… and perhaps this is about you not accepting that… not about me…”

The split running through Ryan widened- right between the eyes.

“No- No- I know who I am. This isn’t about me. I know myself. I haven’t been better than average at anything in my fucking life. I mean- Christ- there’s a reason why I’m not a fucking dentist like my dad. I mean it took me five fucking years to go through undergrad and it was so trash I had to go to that school in the valley- and like I don’t even know how I got in- to this university- or even got to be sitting here with you. I mean what the fuck am I doing here. Like I don’t belong. Like I’m not meant to be here. It was all just a fucking accident. I’m a fraud- a real fraud. And like I came to this school for me and I was like sure- this was for me- this was my life- and yeah like I was doing this for me- but what the hell does that even mean. I mean who cares- I mean who really cares… certainly not…” His voice finally cut.

“So,” Shane's voice was soft but serious, “You don’t value yourself?”

“Why- why,” Ryan felt himself collapsing, “Why did you have to put it like that- what am I supposed to say- yes?”

There was a long moment that transpired between them while that sank in. Shane’s eyes shifted from person to person- to his hands- and finally to Ryan’s hand.

“I lied.” He said.

“You lied?” Ryan's breath shook.

“Yes, I lied.” He repeated.

Ryan sat transfixed. “What- What-“

Shane lowered his head, “It’s not- It’s not like how- It's complicated… It’s complicated and it’s hard for me to explain to someone like you… and I don’t mean someone like you derivatively- I mean… I care about you… and it’s hard for me to talk to people I care about…”

Ryan had hoped that this coming out would somehow be a good thing- that it would fix things- somehow- but instead he felt himself snap in two. The anxiety and the- the bleak undercurrents of locked up things- it was heartbreaking.

“You can talk to me,” He whispered.

“Don’t- Don’t” Shane was stuttering and shaking out of his mind, he had to grip his hands together to stay still. He forced a breath. “I mean- don’t you think I know that- of course I know I can talk to you- you're better than me in almost every way- of course you would listen to me Ryan- I never questioned it- it’s not about whether or not you would hear me out- it's about whether I want to hear me out- whether I want- or even can- listen to myself talk about it. And I- I don’t… I don’t even like to think about it. And I hope that’s enough for you- for now- even though it really shouldn’t be- it’s unfair- and I was a fucking liar- like I always fucking am and…” He put his head into his hands. “I- it’s just not how you think it is… I just- can we keep things as they are- can you just accept that- please… for now… please…”

Ryan struggled to clean up the tears that were furiously streaming down his face. “You know- you know-“

Shane reached out and desperately grabbed him into a suffocating hug and they melted into each other- clinging as if to stay afloat in the summer heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh :) pain
> 
> (also sorry for any Kandinsky scholars out there- i may or may not have just read the wiki page like dear ole' ryan here so plz don't crucify me if I got anything wrong)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being such wonderful readers and encouraging me and being so positive!!!!!!! this chapter is :) well you read it hehehehehehehe :)
> 
> (might have cried while writing this but im not sorry)

Pain can be like a thunderclap- or a torrent of fire- or the seeping water drops that split the bedrock with ice. Gradually- over many years- as encompassing as a trumpet vine around its tree- it can drain every speck of vitality left till there is only the knotted shell that remains and nothing but debris beneath it. A husk- a mask- a makeshift copy of what once existed- that is the imprint that endures if it’s allowed to fester. And eventually from it forms the brambly camouflage that allows for the quiet violence of self-loathing to flourish into becoming one’s fulltime profession. A career of self-detriment. A life that leads to the end.

It was only a while- only a little while- that Shane held him tight against his chest- but in the slight folding of his hands and in the way he turned his head down against Ryan’s neck- it was clear that he hadn’t been hugged- just hugged- in a long time. Ryan felt himself implode inside- images and omens- flashes of things- ripping through him

As abruptly as Shane had embraced him, he calmed, let go, and resumed eating his fucking orange. It was clear he had thought of the whole outburst as a luxury that he would not- or could not overindulge in. But at least he wasn’t outright suppressing it- how he felt- instead, he seemed to just be sort of drifting with it- becoming a neutral passenger in his clouded mind. Guilt was the overwhelming sensation- guilt followed by a frail tiredness.

_It’s hard for me to talk to people I care about._

Ryan went back to his orange too- rolling it around in his hand. In retrospect it made sense. In some small way, it had been a predecessor to the conversation that Shane had expected to have with him- an apology for how uncomfortable things had been inside... How absolutely ridiculous of Shane to think that he had to apologize for-

Ryan’s eyes swelled again as the direct impact of things had a delayed detonation effect in his head.

He did mean it. It was more than a heat of the moment admittance. It was true. He didn’t value himself. He didn’t believe in himself or what he was doing. And as he followed the snagging roots down- down- down- he found himself thinking about what Shane had asked him in the Pavilion- about why he didn’t write anymore…

He picked at the peel.

He didn’t write anymore because he never believed in what he had to say in the first place. That’s why everything he had ever written was trash- because it wasn’t him- it wasn’t real. He had always been searching and trying to capture other people’s views of the world, but never his own. Never. No amount of passion can transform something fake into something real- writing isn’t some form of alchemy- it is personal. But behind the camera- distantly interpreting someone else’s work- that he could handle. That’s what he had been handling.

Editing… that suddenly made an ironic amount of sense- why Shane was in editing. It was all the same really- just in different ways- and maybe for different reasons. Hell- in fact, he didn’t even really know his own reasons- for why he couldn’t come to terms with himself… let alone Shane’s…

Ryan hesitantly reached out- his fingers wavering in the air- and placed his hand on Shane’s knee. A wordless conversation flowed through his fingertips, or at least he hoped it did, into Shane. It was going to be okay. They were in this together- for sure now. The waves of summertime air, smelling of grass and of the flowers from the botanical garden, rolled over them. Things… things were going to get better… they had to get better… they had to…

After many minutes, some conversation was eventually raised, and plans for the rest of the day and the coming evening slowly formed. Things were tenuous. Words were not easy for either one of them. But the need for communication was oppressive and delicate at the same time- so the words did come despite how halting they were. And as they walked back to the car- they did not walk through the museum again- even though that route would have been shorter and definitely cooler. It just did not seem like a wise thing to do- to go back into there.

Lots of friendly, shallow, and cursory things were said between them as they hovered around each other. And as the hours passed- just how shy and evasive Shane really was became much more apparent. It was more than just a sulking humility or a lack of confidence- as Ryan had supposed it was before- but something much deeper than that. Shane was careful with himself. Shane was acting out of some strong-rooted conviction that seemed to both terrify and define him- as if he moved a certain way- or spoke too quickly things could swing out of balance.

How many conversations- how many moments- near misses had there been between the two of them regarding the truth of things- the nature of their shared incompleteness. Ryan rubbed his hand over everything that had happened, feeling for its ridges as if it was a burgeoning wound on his skin. He wondered how he had even been living before- so blind to things- but that was the point wasn’t it- that he had been blind… But he also had a sneaking suspicion that Shane wasn’t blind- and perhaps never had been blind- to the things that plagued him. A tall guy with sharp eyes and a certain look- What was that look? What did that really mean?

Somewhere in the course of the day- the day well ended- and the dark ride back to Shane’s place stifled with the eventuality of their separation.

_It was a public place to go and not have to be home…_

Home had never sounded so bitter and so empty as it had in that sentence. It was clear. Home meant alone. Home meant Shane living with himself and the things within him.

As they pulled up to the back of Calypso’s, Ryan’s eye caught a glimpse of the fire escape. Shane uttered a soft but hasty goodbye- a “see you,” or something like that- something trivial before making a quiet retreat from the car.

The weak sound of Shane’s door closing hit Ryan in the chest- fucking gutting him. No- no- no- this couldn’t happen- fuck- He scrambled around and unbuckled his seatbelt and wrestled out of the car- all emotions and all eyes- to the street. Shane came to a dead halt in his doorway- his key in hand- looking back at him standing there like a breathless lunatic.

“I-“

Ryan had nothing to say.

“I-“

The car door was dinging. Shane was waiting. Things were becoming strained.

“I- I-“ Fuck, “Could I see the display you built- in ah- person?”

Shane paused, surprised. “The- the one for the movies?”

“Yes-“ Ryan sounded as desperate as a drowning man.

Shane nodded, “’Course.”

The air became imbued with notions that “keeping things” as they were was an impossibility- for better or worse.

Shane unlocked the door and together they went up to the apartment. Ryan’s mind darted with fleeting thoughts about invading Shane’s space and what a mistake this could all turn out to be. But Shane didn’t seem to mind- casual about things as ever. Right- he was just coming up to see what Shane had been working on right- ah ha- yes- it wasn’t like he was here for- well- forget it- forget it- wrong time- wrong moment. He just…

Shane closed the trapdoor to the apartment- the last barrier between them and the real world- with finality and turned back up to Ryan with a subtly aware expression. Ryan felt himself be staked- right clean through- with the conviction that yes- not wanting Shane to be alone meant not leaving- and not leaving meant staying- and fuck- it was fucking transparent. It was some one plus one equals two shit.

Shane passed by him unassumingly, allowing Ryan just enough air to burn into a little pile of ash on the floor.

“So…” Shane sighed, acting like things weren’t as they most definitely were. “This is- well- what I have so far.”

Shane started taking out parts and bits- of this and that- and assembling something.

“It’s- well it’s going to be in wood- this is just like the mockup I sent you… It had to be kind of- ah- disassembled to- to get the dimensions and stuff-”

Shane struggled to piece things together- not as entirely calm as he appeared- but since when was that anything new. It was more of a rule actually.

“Fuck-“ He spat, failing for the third time to put the leaning shelf in right.

Ryan’s eyes suddenly sparked to life and he unglued himself from where he had been stiffly standing.

“Here- here- let me- help if you just tell me what to do-“

Shane threw up some wild hands, “I got it- I got it- don’t worry-“

The sides of the thing were wobbling now.

“It’s really not- the mess- the mess it seems-“ Shane fumbled, “I’m sorry that it’s so- Christ-“

The left side completely jumped ship- popping clean off.

“Here- here-“ Ryan bent down on the floor and began to gather the stray pieces- which were becoming more numerous by the second to Shane’s growing- and eventually overwhelming distress.

“It’s-“ Shane struggled, “It’s- ah fuck it-“ He grumbled finally collapsing back onto the rug.

“I think-“ Ryan said, fruitlessly trying to put together some random corner, “I think that-“

“Ryan-“

“Huh?”

He turned back to see Shane with the most overwrought expression- and it didn't seem like it was entirely about the fucking display either. Ryan’s blood ran cold. Crowding- clinging- suffocating- he knew himself… and yet he was doing it all over again- making the same mistakes. Only this time they were bigger because this time they mattered- really fucking mattered…

“I’ll-“ He murmured, “It’s a- I’m sure it’s nice- will be nice- in the store.” He tried to dust himself off, to do something, “Thanks for ah- showing me.”

Shane's expression grew more unknowable- but definitely more upset. A nervous noise escaped from Ryan's mouth. Damage control. Pronto.

“I guess- I’ll um-“ He rubbed his neck, “I'll see you soon as you ah- said.”

Get out. Head for the hills. Text tomorrow afternoon- maybe- but just stop fucking talking now. He made a few disjointed gestures to signal that yes- he was in fact leaving- and headed for the ladder. He bent down to open the hatch-

“...Stay...”

Ryan shivered so hard he could hear the static.

“…please…”

Ryan turned. Shane was still on the rug, leaning up against the foot of the coffee table limply. He was crying- not a loud or explosive cry- just a hushed one- the kind of crying one learns through years of holding things together in bathrooms and in train cars and behind the thin doors of office complexes. It was a restrained suffering.

“I thought…” Shane spoke before Ryan could even come up with a sound, “I thought… that you know… well if I could leave you… if I could leave you in the car… then I could… handle seeing you leave here too… but I can’t… I can’t… please don’t make me watch you leave… not right now… stay even if it’s for a while…”

Every syllable was sounded out- clearly spoken- without dramatics. Shane’s cheeks were glowing now from the streams of tears that had crossed them. Ryan's lungs hurt. In a swift dash, he discarded any and all future plans other than this one- other than staying. He sat down onto the floor too- unsure of what to say or what to do- but- fuck he had to do som-

Shane put his finger on Ryan’s lip.

“I’ll-“

Ryan’s words broke as Shane’s touch ran down from his mouth to his chin.

“Anything-“

Shane kissed him deeply, before letting their foreheads fall and rest against each other.

“…I’m sorry…” Shane choked, “…I’m-“

Ryan kissed him back. The immense tiredness of everything seeped through Shane- unfettered this time- and Ryan latched onto him- their struggles intertwining as they rested obliterated and tangled with each other on the floor. A dialogue of solace exchanged between them through the pecks and brushes. It didn't matter- the details of how things had gotten mixed up- of how this pain started- or where it came from- it didn't matter- it didn't matter now... Immense emotions, bigger than themselves, flooded around their limbs. Deep circles of uncertainty and repression- colored Shane's eyes in red and purple hues and his touch grew faint. 

Ryan gathered Shane up off the floor and took him over to the soft low-rising bed and as Shane looked up at him in his gentle boyish melancholy way there was a moment- hell several moments- where things could have transpired- but there was an idea of taking advantages and of pity… and that…

Ryan knew how it felt to be fucked for all kinds of reasons and pity- that was the absolute worst. Shane didn’t deserve that- even a shadow of that feeling…

“Where’s your sleep stuff?”

Shane’s dazed eyes darted to the top drawer of a dresser.

Ryan rustled over and went through it- and some things were selected- comfort being the first and only priority. The lights were then turned off and the covers turned down. The noise of the street below grew in its presence as they did not speak. 

Respectfully as he could, he handed Shane the pajamas and let him change, averting his eyes and busying himself with discarding his shoes as he heard the jingle of Shane's belt come off. When he finally mustered the courage to turn back around, he saw Shane at the headboard, illuminated dimly by the filtered light of the back windows. His knees were pressed up against him, with his hands folded over them. He was clearly unsure of what this was- and what was going to be expected.

“…I’m so sorry…” He said again, looking like he was trying to gather his strength, trying to sniff up his still flowing tears.

Ryan crawled over the drifts of the comforter and took him into another hug- except this time he wasn’t going to let go- not until this was finished- not until Shane was ready- and for that matter not until he was ready either. He was crying too now. He was trying to be strong- but it was too much- everything was too much. Shane balled up inside his arms as they twisted down into the folds of the bed. Under the covers every so often Shane's chest would shutter- like he had forgotten to breathe- like he had forgotten what a full breath felt like. 

Never breaking contact- absorbing the feeling of having another person to face the world with- Ryan's eyes flickered against Shane's shoulder as he held him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boi- so- asdfdgfjhgvkhl 
> 
> issues issues issues 
> 
> and I gathered yall here with pining and books :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :DDDDDDDDD thanks you guy so much for reading and supporting!!!! 
> 
> so??? after the storm??? calm??? right????

Ryan stretched out his arms, sleepily looking for his source of warmth, but his arms found nothing but the empty bed beside him. Disappointment filled his lungs as he wrestled around in the covers. His face rolled down onto the adjacent pillow. A warm and now familiar scent filled his senses strongly. He, still drifting in and out of consciousness, buried his face into it. Happy and fuzzy thoughts filled his head as he inhaled.

Shane… He scrunched his hand into the sheets- _Shane!!_

He panicked and instantly pushed himself up from the sinking vortex of pillows. He fumbled- not fully awake- but certainly aware of fucking things. Yes, aware. Last night- the whole thing- the crying- the touching- the intermittent kisses on cheeks and necks. Fuck. He twisted around. His breathing and pulse spiked.

Alone in the bed. Cold sweat poured. Nothing- nothing had happened- it wasn’t like that- it was just…

His head spun with the number of times that he had woken up- after something had happened- to this- and just how many bits of himself had just come to lay down and die when confronted by the emptiness of the other side of the bed.

Just… yeah… Ha ah… Yeah...

There was a sudden clatter. Ryan’s face wrinkled. Dishes, food, and cooking. The smell of coffee soon followed the sound. So, that’s where Shane was.

Ryan fell back into the mattress in relief- his mind clearing of its noxious waves of reflexive panic. Things were okay. It was okay. No one had left anyone. God…

His eyes burned and things were blurry as he tried- truly tried- to open them. He usually didn’t sleep in his contacts- or not when he could help it- but especially with all the crying and the rolling around- yes things were a foggy mess. And getting up was a wrinkled and horrid affair. He squinted at the long mirror propped in the corner- at himself- sitting on the end of the bed. And yes, even from just the blobs of color and form he could see, he knew that he looked every bit like the emotionally hungover wreck he was feeling.

Catharsis- more like an exorcism from the looks of it- god damn.

His feet creakily came in contact with the floor and he finally drug himself up and over to the mirror. There was a brief attempt to straighten things out- but it was short-lived given the impossibility of the task. It would just have to do. Perhaps Shane looked the same- or maybe even worse- he hadn’t collected himself together enough to look past the folding screen that divided the bedroom from the kitchen.

As his eyes came to clear, Ryan finally got a pretty good look at this area of the apartment. Lord knows he had been too nervous to really look at it before. It was pretty tidy- given the mess that the office downstairs was. There wasn’t really anything out on the dressers or the end tables- no family pictures- no knick knacks- no anything. Right- hadn’t he sold everything. So all of this was “new” Shane or something- clean of any reminders or traces due to necessity- or hate- or exhaustion- or maybe all three- of a previous existence.

Why…Ryan’s eyes fell to the floor in front of the mirror, to the only imprint of a definite personality in this section of the apartment- a knee-high stack of new books on the floor. The titles were either devastatingly mundane- such as _The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People_ \- or some mind-bending fuckery like _From Propaganda to Discourse: Truth, Power, the Public Interest, and Public Relations_. The mismatch might have surprised him before- but it made a certain amount of sense now- even if he didn’t quite grasp everything. However, in this strange mix of heavy intellectualism and basic life skills, there was a little book that stuck out. _Letters to Milena_ read the muted pink cover.

Ryan almost moved to pick it up- but second-guessed himself. Things had already been shaken up. The fact that he was still lingering in here was evidence of that. He was almost afraid to face Shane. Things were going to be different- and different was terrifying. He ran his hand through his hair once more and finally removed himself from the bedroom.

Shane was standing in front of the stove, back turned, stirring something with care. The yellow morning light and the steam from the various pots framed him with a domestic gentleness, and Ryan’s steps grew quiet. He was struck again- as he had been on the moonlit street- that he should not have been given the privilege to see this. Perhaps it was because Shane was such a private person- that this moment felt so still- but it also could have been because of how deeply- how frighteningly deeply- Ryan felt as he looked at him. He could see this sight for the rest of his life and never get tired of it. He knew that in his fucking core.

Shane suddenly turned to set something on the island. Their eyes met- blindingly so- and Ryan could visibly see Shane rattle apart inside.

“Morn’” He said vacantly and urgently, before grabbing a bowl and hastily cracking eggs, as if all of this should have already been completed.

“Morn’…” Ryan echoed, his mind and emotions lagging.

It was clear, however, to Ryan that Shane wanted to do this for him, and he had no heart to protest it. Sometimes things were better left undisturbed for once. So, he slowly slid into one of the barstools and continued to watch- but this time from close range- a slightly unwise thing to do because with proximity came details…

Shane’s energy moved around him like a trick of the light. It appeared like he had both stayed up all night bawling and yet had never cried at all. It was weird- the paradoxical nature of his appearance. He moved around the kitchen like things were stiff throughout his whole body- like his internal machinery was still on the verge of collapse. But externally- externally he looked like he was capable of anything- unmoved and unbothered.

Shane was whisking the eggs now, and acting busy, very busy.

How much practice had it taken to exist like that? How many years had it taken him to refine the programming to make it run so smoothly and discretely? Was it even conscious anymore- or was that just how he was used to operating?

Ryan found himself sympathizing with what Shane had said about not wanting to even think about it- the reasons for how things came to be as they were now…

Kandinsky- leaving things behind- but somehow still believing in the things that were… or at least now Ryan supposed that Shane had believed- or did believe in them. That’s what Shane had meant right- when he said that he had lied- he meant that they were more than just words. They were his actual true thoughts.

Life was a void- we’re going to die… but- but here’s breakfast- breakfast- so focus on that- focus on that…

Shane turned back to the stove with the bowl and began pouring the eggs into the pan.

“I don’t usually eat in the mornings-“ He said, “But I’ve been trying to- good habits- and well- eggs are kind of all I really have around- I haven’t really-“ He reached for a spatula. “Haven’t really gone grocery shopping.”

“You don’t have to do anything Shane- like I mean-“

Shane stopped him with a dismissive smile that said- yes- he did have to- and no he in no way accepted that what had happened last night was okay. It was somehow his fault- like they hadn’t both been crying.

The eggs sizzled in the pan as he stirred them.

“I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that,” Shane said without warning, his back tensing. “It was wrong of me-“

“Wrong?” Ryan’s emotions brimmed over. “It wasn’t wrong it was fine-“

Ryan stopped short as Shane leaned against the stove like he was going to be physically sick. 

“You were right,” Shane quietly sighed, refusing to turn around. “I shouldn’t have phrased it like that…“

Ryan’s expression was set with confusion.

“It wasn’t right to put the- I don’t know- the heat I guess or somethin’ on you.” Shane eased back and forth on his feet- restless. “I painted you into a fucking corner. You know it's just like ingrained I guess. A habit- or what have you- to do it like that- paint people in corners- attack I suppose… Awful phrasing…”

Fuck. It suddenly clicked this was about- The whole- _you don’t value yourself_ bit that Shane had laid on him on the bench. Ryan stirred his foot around in a circle. Of course, he wasn’t talking about what happened last night. Why would Shane talk about that…

“You didn’t paint me into a corner-“

Shane laughed in disbelief- making Ryan’s already feeble protest seem even weaker.

“I know I did.” Shane said. “I know who I am.”

Ryan didn’t like that statement- it was so unyielding- so plainly delivered. Surely, that wasn’t the case. Whatever that meant- it couldn’t be true- could it… It wouldn’t be the first time that Shane had put himself down- but just as was sensed before yesterday- it was more than just putting himself down. It was a bleak and perhaps resigned statement- that had been considered, debated, and found to be true- or at least true in Shane’s mind.

The room grew silent. The eggs finished cooking and subsequently were paired with toast and salsa. Shane slid a plate over across the bar to Ryan, while he stayed there on the other side, cradling his plate and resting against the cabinets. He was keeping his distance. Disconcerting. Ryan took a few tenuous bites.

“You could have taken one of my sleep shirts.” Shane murmured, almost indiscernibly over his dish.

Ryan’s ears instantly perked up- startled at the topic.

“Sleeping in a button up is terrible…” Shane shuffled his eggs around with the toast, “And yes- I speak from… experience.”

Experience had a heaviness to it- dropping through the air like a rock. Shane coughed like he hadn’t meant it to sound that dire.

“Long nights.” He added sparsely, “Desk stuff. Chaotic situations.”

Ryan twisted his fork. It wasn’t much- but it was enough- or it was what Shane deemed enough- to constitute a full explanation.

“It really wasn’t bad-“ Ryan said, flinching at how that could be interpreted. “I mean- it wasn’t bad sleeping in a button up. Wasn’t even the first time this week actually...”

Shane looked over from his plate concerned. Ryan could feel the seconds tick by. His eyes averted- over to the now clean spot on the floor where the display had come apart.

“I watched the movies,” He said.

“Oh? Which ones- I forgot which ones you took-”

“Well-“ Ryan stuttered, “I guess I should have said movie- instead of movies- I ah- watched _Angel’s Egg.”_

“Hmmm!” Shane lit up- genuinely so.

Ryan relaxed at the sight of it- like there was finally a ray of hope in all of this.

“What did you think?”

Ryan’s mind whirred bringing up the prepared statement he had finally assembled somewhere over the course of several days.

“I thought it was an interesting- ah- meditation on the obfuscation of truth by faith-“ Ryan kept his tone as lively and unrehearsed as possible. “Just as the beautiful surface of art hides the terrible depth of the movie- so does the eggshell hide the truth- that life is only a repeating pattern of mistakes and belief that it is anything more than that leads to an eventual and painful crisis- a crisis which people cannot or will not face- given their previous dedication to some higher justice that is actually dead...”

Ryan paused for a moment. Shane’s eyes were riveted keenly on him. He could hear his pulse in his ears.

“So ah-“ Ryan looked down at his eggs, “So ah- yeah she dies… cause’ she believed… that life was something more than what its and she couldn’t accept the reality that it wasn’t.”

 _Obfuscation_. What vocab of the day shit was that? Fuck. Might as well brought a teleprompter.

“You don't have to treat me like that Ryan- like I won’t listen to you- like I…” Shane trailed off, incredibly hurt, obviously vulnerable as hell from last night- or from everything in general. “You could have just said you liked it.”

Crushed. Yikes.

“Well that’s just how I-“

“Even I have to _try_ to sound like that Ryan- Jesus Christ- like what in the nihilistic pandering-”

He stopped suddenly- realizing himself and what he was doing and how absolutely destroyed Ryan was looking. Awful phrasing.

Ryan bent over his plate- and tried to look anywhere but back at Shane. So this was what open emotions felt like- fucking Christ.

“I wasn’t trying- to-“ Ryan lost his presence of mind, “I mean I just thought we could talk about stuff- like how- um- how… you talk about stuff… cause your so- I don’t know- good at it…”

Shane’s gaze wavered- brokenly.

“Thanks-“ He finally croaked, as if he shouldn’t be allowed to say anything more. “For ah- trying- it’s just…” He did a pace of the kitchen. “…it’s… it’s well you’re right- that is- that is how- I- would have- I did-“ His chest was rising and falling erratically. “It’s just no way to fucking think... That life is a mistake… and there’s nothing fucking good about it- or about-”

Shane stopped before saying me. Ryan’s whole body froze up.

“I-“ Shane paused, becoming jittery. “I didn’t mean- again to ah- I just-“ He looked off out into the light of the distant windows, “It’s just nothing to relate over or to intellectualize or to elevate… and…” Shane clenched his jaw “…and you’re right… that’s how I talk and ah- think isn’t it… you got it- ah- down… that’s me…”

Sarcasm with a horrid chaser of self-doubt shot through his words- like he did deep down believe them no matter how rank he made them sound. Beneath the darting of Shane’s eyes there was a bitter understanding that this would happen- that somehow things would become infected- that somehow he would drag Ryan down with him into some sort of imagined pit.

They stared at each other. Shane checked his phone. Not a good sign.

“I- I ah- well you know how it is-“ He put down his plate, his food still uneaten, only moved around, “I- well I took the day off yesterday- and so now there’s of course today…” He shrugged, aimlessly- retreating into some ten inch thick shell.

“Um… should I-” Ryan stumbled. He didn’t want to say go.

Shane shyly muttered something voiceless- apparently unable to finish the sentence either.

“I’ll- I’ll let you out,” He finally shuttered.

Ryan nodded and went to grab his shoes while Shane cleaned up the plates. This almost felt worse then it had last night- just a different kind of bad- like a might never see Shane cry again type of bad or something. It was a one step forward- two steps back- might not ever be happy in each other’s company again type of foreboding…

_Calm down. Calm down. Calm Down._

Ryan felt sick. _Life is a mistake._ Why the fuck had he tried to say anything at all- he didn’t know what he was fucking talking about. Shane was fucking right. He had been scared- scared as hell- that Shane wouldn’t listen- and what did he go and do? Fuck shit up- that’s what he did- it was clear. That’s exactly what he did.

Shane flipped open the latch and took him down to the door to say goodbye.

Good-bye.

Ryan turned green. Excuses and apologies crammed in his brain at a dizzying rate. His face grew hot and his legs locked. His mouth wouldn’t work- he wouldn’t work. He just stood there refusing to move- like the door wasn’t in front of him- staring at the floor.

Shane lingered beside him- within inches- not doing anything either.

“…Ry…” Shane’s voice cracked painfully, pleading for him to look up.

Ryan didn’t.

“It’s just…” Shane sighed.

“It’s just what,” Ryan whispered, waiting for the punch to the gut.

“I… I just need some time...”

“Time?”

“Time…”

“Why?” Ryan pressed his mouth shut fiercely- to prevent anything else coming out.

There was a long pause.

“…because…” Shane’s feet shifted on the floor, “…I want to do this… right…”

“Right?” Ryan’s head bobbed up and down meekly.

“Right.”

Silence again transpired.

“This isn’t your fault-“

Ryan’s eyes instantly darted up at Shane- stopping him mid-speech.

“I’m-“ Shane tried to continue, “I’m not used to- people trying to- know me… it’s never really been a concern…”

“A concern?” Ryan shook.

“Yeah-“ Shane admitted, as if he was concerning.

He then pressed a light kiss on Ryan’s lips- like it was a fucking farewell- and opened the door.

“I- just want things to be okay-“ He said, “I just want us to be okay… and I need to be ah- more okay myself- for that to happen- I see that… now…“

Ryan stopped himself from pleading- from making this into any more of a scene then it already was- even if it was just the two of them.

“How long…” Ryan asked as he stepped over the threshold.

“I don’t know.”

Ryan twisted. He’d been afraid of that answer.

“I- I just need to think...” Shane said if that made things better. It didn't.

More silence. 

"Bye..."

"...Bye"

The door scuffed across the floor, swinging its way shut, closing in Ryan’s face.

He wasn’t even home anymore- mentally. The panic about the empty bed this morning? And all the pieces that had died? That was cute. Fucking funny. He felt like laughing actually. Nothing- he felt so much- that there was nothing- nothing he could think or feel- his entire existence was deleted. After an unknown amount of time, he distantly drifted away from the door.

Instinctively, on complete autopilot, he paused at the endcap where “S’s” recommendations usually were. It was Friday after all. His heart burst as he saw the pink cover- _Letters to Milena_.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!!!! so just as a warning, this chapter does have allusions to suicide and depression- don't worry I'm not an evil or diabolical prick- but it is mentioned because it's very relevant to a certain someone... 
> 
> Ryan really just get's his eyes opened about a lot of stuff and it's kind of heavy :(

The rest of the day was lived in unfathomably deep colors of anguish. The day before- he had skipped lecture- and today he did the same. An email should probably be sent at this point concerning where he was and why he wasn’t there.

_Why he wasn’t there…_

The answer came more quickly then he’d like to admit to himself.

“I am sick. I am unable to leave my bed. Apologies.”

He sent it to all whom it would concern- hoping that the vagueness was alarming enough that no questions would be asked- but also not as alarming as to prompt anyone to come looking for him. That is the only thing he knew for sure in this moment. He did not want to be seen. There was nothing of him to see.

Dramatics. Fucking Byronic levels of despair and torment. Scream into a windy cliff face type moods. Maybe life was just a series of mistakes- no matter how much Shane had protested it- because it was clear- given how things unfolded that there was evidence for that line of thinking… He curled into himself more on the bed- his arms feeling empty.

_No fucking way to think._

But he was. He was thinking it. For real this time. Ironic how that turned out. The almost overwhelmingly fabricated- _nihilistic panderings_ \- he had barely convinced himself to say had life now. It had flesh and bone and it was bearing down on him like a night terror. Some “if you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you” ramifications.

Ha. So much for having to _try_ to sound like that. Nice lie Shane- Nice outrage- Protective- Because it was easy now. Everything he had read- and tried to read- it came and bathed him like a full moon’s tide in frigid vocabulary to describe how he felt- describe this new feeling. But then- was this a new feeling- or was it that just now he had the tools- the words- to discern its presence.

**Dread.**

It wasn’t like he hadn’t known it before- but now he knew it- he had shaken its hand and it had bled all over him. Its inky tinge covered him in senseless grief.

Yeah- _just words_ \- that had been a falsehood on more than one account. Not only were they not just words- but words- fuck- they in and of themselves could not be discounted. He felt the ideas and the emotions cementing in his mind around them.

Time… honestly- fuck time- it can eat a dick.

Ryan’s thoughts jammed against each other- the machinery coming to a halt. It occurred to him suddenly- how heat was building in his veins. He was angry- really fucking angry. He had laid himself out and been as careful and understanding as possible and he still got kicked in the fucking teeth.

Fuck Shane- that ungrateful fucking prick- fucking egotistical piece of shit- not worth two-

Ryan burst into tears, his head in the down of his pillow, incensed because- well because of how it hurt- of how it fucking dismantled him- how much he didn’t mean it- not a single word. He loved him- he loved him- fuck how he loved…

Overwhelmed waves of distraught need rolled through him.

He wanted to hold everything- fix everything- mend everything- pick it all up and make it right again. It was excruciating how much he was willing to do- to hold it together- fuck… Wasn’t that the only thing he was good at- the only thing people ever used him for- to fix things and to fix themselves? Everyone else had no problem making him scrape things together and now- the one time when he actually wanted to put up with it all- he had been shut out.

It was unfair, backward and horrible. It was a different kind of torture which made him look at himself and what he was actually saying. An introspective decimation- that’s what it was. If he couldn’t take care of him then what was he good for… he certainly wasn’t someone Shane could actually…

_Wow._

Back to that huh. Can’t go two seconds without stumbling on that landmine. Worthless. Valueless. Yep… 

The _nihilistic panderings_ breathed down on him, and he shivered. His hand snuck around the covers looking for another blanket- or another something to protect himself from the things swimming inside his mind. In the blind grasping, his hand landed against something pointed, the edge of a rectangle. Slowly, he retracted his hand back towards his face. It was the little book. The pink one. The one in Shane’s room.

_Shane’s book._

The pages almost hurt as he ran his hands around the exterior. Softly, his thumb pushed up at the corner of the cover, and moved it back. With great care he read over the title page, trying to brace himself for whatever was lurking behind it. Biting down- he turned it- and began to read.

It was just a collection of letters as the title said- written of course to Milena. But not only were they love letters- that was terrible enough- but they were written by Kafka of all people. The woke up as a bug- _Metamorphosis_ \- existential horror- died young- brutally depressed guy that wrote about the oppressive monotony of life.

_That kind of guy in love…_

Parallels without any proper precedent were drawn, and roles were filled. He didn’t want to leave the brief preface like it was the last island of land left on an entirely submerged planet. But his last line of defense had already been read- there was nothing left but to become submerged as well- to step out into the dark water.

After a few pages of seemingly nothing- there was the first tremor of concern:

_“I can't think of anything to write about, I'm just walking around here between the lines, under the light of your eyes, in the breadth of your mouth as in a beautiful happy day, which remains beautiful and happy, even when the head is sick and tired”_

Ryan read it over twice- but only twice- breathing through it. It was nothing much. He could take it in stride. Rumi had hit him harder. A few more pages went by:

_“I long for you; I who usually longs without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you… I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly…”_

Ryan started to choke- but the words drug on- the pages continued to flip:

_“I am constantly trying to communicate something incommunicable, to explain something inexplicable, to tell about something I only feel in my bones and which can only be experienced in those bones… fear spread to everything, fear of the greatest as of the smallest, fear, paralyzing fear of pronouncing a word… if I could drown in sleep as I drown in fear I would no longer be alive… don’t demand any sincerity from me… No one can demand it from me more than I myself and yet many things elude me… I’m sure perhaps everything eludes me…”_

The parallels were becoming visions- materializing in painful detail.

_“Do you know, darling? When you became involved with others you quite possibly stepped down a level or two, but if you become involved with me, you will be throwing yourself into the abyss…”_

Shudders filled his body.

_“I have spent all my life resisting the desire to -“_

Ryan’s eyes glued to the last words of the sentence as they peeled through him like untethered fire- unable to be processed. Furious- he slapped the book shut- as if to snuff out what he had just seen- what he had just read.

Even though Shane hadn’t said it. He had read it in Shane’s voice. He was going to be sick.

_No fucking way to think… Nothing to relate over or to intellectualize or to elevate…_

Ryan fell back into the bed. Waves of numbness crossed him again- choking out the burning pain with their chill. Everything felt distant- unfamiliar- dizzy- as the reception of the conversation became clear. It was more than a panicked snap- and it had nothing to do with how intellectual or nonintellectual Ryan was- or what fucking words he had used. It was the fucking implications- the fucking context.

Shane was trying so hard to not be- _that kind of guy_ \- and what did he do- what did Ryan fucking do- he turned around and treated him exactly like _that kind of guy…_ invalidating everything that Shane had been trying to work towards- trying to be...

Ha- yeah- so you’re a depressed sack of shit who spent all night crying into my fucking arms- so let me relate to you like one- talk to you like one- because that’s what you are isn’t it? And that’s cool- like thinking about death and dying- I guess ah ha because you’re cool and like angsty guys are so deep and intellectual- and you’re so good at being depressed!

_Jesus Christ._

Shane was so sensitive about that shit he lied to cover it up, moved away to get away from reminders, and only kept his fucking cat. No shit he got upset. It was a wonder that he hadn’t just told him to get out right then and there- thrown him to the curb.

_You’re right… that’s how I talk and ah- think isn’t it… you got it- ah- down… that’s me…_

That’s me: the guy who has spent all his life resisting and perhaps still resisting. It was obvious that’s what he had meant- that he was nothing other than the sum of his collective impulses- a diagnosis with a face. The self-help books- the new life- how he described inheriting the bookshop as an opportunity- how he had lingered in public places not wanting to be home alone- it was crystal clear.

Ryan gathered the comforter around him and shrunk into a ball. The bits and pieces of the book recommendations made sense to him now. There was a line that threaded through them all. It was a struggle to find meaning in a world that he had not only given up hope on- but had ridiculed- made a career of ridiculing…

And after all that fuckery, Shane still wanted to try. He still wanted to make sure things were okay. He wanted to do things right.

No matter how complex and confusing and painful things were, it was all in the light of that. Things were not over. It just so happened that they currently were marooned in a fire-ravaged field of a situation. The twisted and dead things needed to be burned up- true- needed to be acknowledged- but still, the rain hadn’t come yet. Nothing had grown. It was just ash now. And ash gets in your lungs and your hair and clings all over you. And of course, it wasn’t like it had been a controlled burn either, more like a lightning strike to a dead tree that spread out of control. Perhaps there was more to burn then what Shane had anticipated… and perhaps Ryan did smell of lighter fluid…

But you know- it just sort of happened- and they had to live with it- live with how they felt… they had live until life became livable again… until the rain came…

How long? Ryan wondered again.

He slept the rest of the day, and then the weekend rolled around. He reread the book- picking out more and more phrases and details. And then it was Monday and there was school again. He went this time and there were no questions about where he had been. The days elapsed. He saw Steven a couple of times, but this time they talked about Steven’s problems instead of his own. It was a nice change. He went through the library of recommendations that he had acquired over the many months and read through all the important ones- all the ones that told the real fucking story- trying to tide himself over.

Thursday came and things were still silent. An apprehension arose- what if Shane decided that he would never be okay enough… He couldn’t sleep. He watched the hours turn that night- until the morning pressed its beams into his room. It was Friday. A whole week and there had been nothing. He couldn’t take it. As soon as they opened- Ryan was there- there at Calypso’s. There had been a hope that perhaps… perhaps there could be something to be done and maybe there might be something waiting-

But there wasn’t. The recommendation slot was empty. There was nothing for the first time in almost 10 months. Blank.

He stood there staring at it- losing his fucking mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an employee- it was the same girl that he had caught last time.

“Is he in the office?” Ryan said tensely.

“He’s not here,” She replied, barely looking up.

“Where is he then? When will he be back?”

“He went back to wherever- for some time-“

“Wherever? You mean he’s in _Chicago_?”

She looked up this time- her attention caught. Fuck- he must have sounded like a serial killer.

“Yeah… like he left last weekend.”

“Have-“ Ryan pressed his hand against his head like it was threatening to explode. “Have you heard anything from him?”

“…No…” She said with a tone. “He just left the general manager in- ah- like charge of stuff- you can speak to him if this is about like business things.”

Ryan waved a defeated hand, “No- no- it’s not business…”

“We- ah-“ Shit even she was feeling awkward now, “We can tell him that you came by when he comes back.”

“Comes back?” Ryan blinked trying to grasp at any shred of hope.

“Ah- yeah- he’s not like- gone for good or something…”

Gone for good… Fuck. His breath shook as things compounded on him. “Yeah- ha- it’s not like that… thanks…”

He stood there for a couple of seconds more, before the painful heat of her increasingly concerned staring forcibly evicted him from the spot.

_I just need to think about it._

Yeah… yeah… He tried to cool his mind down and the day became a fucking difficult one- to put it lightly- as Ryan too thought about it- the distance between them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew- sorry if that was too much Kafka- I just think he's neat 
> 
> and yeah- gay angst disasters- and wow- at least they are closer to resolving things?? right???


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))))))))!!!!! thanks you guys for still reading- i know this story is getting long af- so thanks for sticking around !!!!!!
> 
> So this chapter features more of Ryan really thinking about stuff and maybe peering into the void some more hehe but it's okay I promise <333

The next couple of days it rained. Ironic, given how there was no news. The lack of news was both calming and hair-raising. No news- meant no news- nothing had fallen apart… yet… but also nothing had come together yet. There was just the wait. That’s all there was. It was unyielding and confusing to understand. But maybe silence was what was needed now- what Shane needed now. As much as it fucking hurt, perhaps silence was better than mistakes- cause fucking hell- there could have been so many- there already were so many. The silence was evidence of that, wasn’t it? Silence just doesn't arrive on its own terms- or at least not this kind…

And the silence, it didn't stop with Shane. Actually, Ryan was pretty quiet too. Or perhaps he was just quiet in the context of his surroundings. Anxieties were high, in general, everywhere he went. There was little more than a week left before things would be all over and the semester, as it was, would be finished.

It would be summer. The campus would close, well mainly close, and people would go back to their homes or families or wherever. Ryan didn’t do any of that. He never did. There was the excuse of summer projects or research or whatever… But now… What utter fucking bullshit that had all been- like that was what was preventing him from going home. Because home meant questions about how he was doing and how things were looking- and of course there would be questions about the future.

Fucking terrible- Loathsome- Worse than death- Being asked about the _future…_

It was better to be on an empty campus than to deal with that. But in its essence- an empty campus is empty... Maybe that’s why he had been so uncomfortable with the idea of Shane being alone- because he was alone- possibly deeply and frighteningly so.

It was protective, of course, if there was no one that really knew what was going on in his life then there would be no one to disappoint. Private failures. Private mistakes. Private fuck ups. It made sense. It was basic logic. There, of course, would be Steven. He would look out for him. But it wasn’t the same- the same as… But there was a still week left- Right? A whole week- y’know- but then…

Well, yeah then… it would be summer _wouldn’t it…_

It was Wednesday evening. The library was crowded, the rain was still pounding against the third story window, and he was cramped. Next to his desk, there was some O-Chem study group whispering in panicky tones and flailing their notes and pens around forecasting the coming apocalypse. Perhaps the apocalypse was coming, but that wasn’t so concerning now in light of other concerns. Naturally, Hell was going to rain down- but it was routine Hell- predictable Hell- a Hell you can study for.

Actually, sitting down and working on his classes felt like a relief for once. It was a gentle reminder that life- perhaps- was more than the internal troubles that were plaguing them. Also, the struggle of focusing on things had become easier now since he had realized the reasons for his sometimes intense apprehensions.

He had arrived on his current course because he had been driven by fear. The fear of having nothing to say and of having no one to listen. The fear of talking into an empty page and an empty room. The fear of having to keenly and truly be aware of how he actually felt about things- to the point where he could relate them to others. It was a lot to confront- but at least he knew it was there- instead of having the ever-present anxiety that something was wrong. At least now he knew for sure that there _was_ something wrong.

Grounded- was that the word for it- the word for how he was feeling?

It was okay if this wasn’t what he wanted- if he didn’t have the same passion as the others in his program- the connection to courses- the drive- it was okay… This had been a landing field, a place to get his orientations while he came to terms with himself. He still wasn’t ready to write. He knew that much. And for now, this was something to focus on and something to push him forward in life. And it wasn’t like he hated it. But thank-god he could stop telling himself that he loved it.

There’s nothing worse than trying to be in love with something you don’t love.

But that was another subject that was unbearable to think about, actually, the whole subject of love. He knew it was there, surrounding him. As he had drifted around campus, things had sounded and had felt different to him. The movement of the shuttle bus as it swayed up the hill- the taste of the coffee in the morning- the talking of the crowds- all of it had been different. Things were too much. Life was too bright. Reminders were everywhere…

_“I long for you; I who usually longs without longing… I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly…”_

He had reread the book more, against his better judgment, and it was in his mind now- at the forefront of most of his thoughts as he considered- truly considered- life within its context. Between the study sessions and the sleepless nights, he had run himself through it like sand through a sieve, in search of a source for his own dread- the dread that he had perhaps always felt but never knew he had. And yes, he also searched for the fear. He searched for every shard of himself that had buried its way down into his skin to abscess and ache.

It was a dangerous way to think. But it was an even more dangerous way to be- to be and to not be aware of it- like he had been unaware of it. It wasn’t exactly like he had been a maniac with himself- but personally- in his personal life- it wasn’t like self-preservation was ever more than a glancing concern. He might have pretended and danced around it and he might have never sat down and thought about it in such terms but in reading between his own lines it was clear how careless he was with himself… how little thought he put into keeping himself together…

Was that why he always was fixing people? To keep from fixing himself? To keep himself from noticing how tired he often was?

Yes. _Tired._

He had felt that when he had seen Shane on the fire escape, while he had sat there on the darkened corner. He had felt that deep ache without words and without definite emotions. The blur of falling downwards, though you are still standing, that’s what he had felt.

Yeah- he did things when he was sad- did more things than just order a pizza and go to the gym- like how he had told Steven… yeah… perhaps he had mentioned fucking up his own life too… fucking up himself… fucking other people… but he was normal. He was doing fine. If he just found all the pieces it would stop, right? That’s how that works- surely- that’s how it had to work. It wasn’t like the pattern was going to repeat or anything or get worse- if you know- things got worse…

The words on the page before him became blurry. He couldn’t read anymore. He could barely sit. He could barely stand it. A weight came and pressed down on to him. It had only taken a thought- a brief moment of weakness- to realize how hopelessly and deeply desperate he was.

Yes, grounded. What a fucking joke. Hanging on for dear life- that was more like it- bleeding out on to the fucking pavement. Why couldn’t he ever just be honest with himself- honest about how much it hurt- about how much he hurt- about just how much everything fucking hurt.

His mouth was shaking against his hands, as he pressed his folded palms against his face. His teeth hurt the soft skin- that was how fucking hard he was pressing. He wanted to scream- scream so bad he could feel it breaking against his vocal cords- trying to push its way out. But there was no breath behind it- no voice- _a restrained suffering._

**Fuck.**

The separation between them was an abyss- but at the same time it was closing- fusing up. Is this what it’s like for him? Is this what it feels like to be aware? Or was this just the result of the years he had tried to avoid awareness- running like an anxious rabbit between the patches of tall grass… and if so was this then growth… is that what they were doing…

Growing _separately_ or growing _separate_ … Growing apart…

So yeah. Studying. Right, that was what he was here for. How about that- been on the same page for twenty minutes. Not like he needed to read that or anything or write something about that.

The noise of the rain got louder. His red eyes shifted from the page to the window wistfully, and he impulsively checked the weather in Chicago. Sunny skies. That was good. Shane deserved some sunshine.

He couldn't even bear to look back down at the book- hives crossed his body just from touching it as he shoved it into his bag. He tried to calm himself down a bit- but thankfully it wasn’t too necessary. It was finals week after all. Who wasn’t considering their sanity? He would just be another trouble face in a sea of faces. That was vaguely comforting- he guessed.

The rain pelleted against his pathetic little umbrella as he crossed campus, head down and gate slow. He was getting drenched but it was unavoidable- just like everything else. _God-_ he was being a dramatic fuck. It wasn’t that fucking deep. It was just rain- you shit head. Walk through it- go home- and work at getting something done.

His shoes squished wretchedly up the steps to the side entrance to the dorm, and into the covered waiting area. Cursing viciously he fought to close his umbrella as it sprung awkwardly back at him- fuck- he could just fucking snap it in two- fucking piece of sh-

He froze mid-rant. He wasn’t alone under the covered entrance. On the bench, right inside the space of the double doors was Shane, half risen out of his seat, looking up at him with a broken, alarmed, and vulnerable expression. 

Shane’s eyes were filled with words and he hadn’t even spoken. And Ryan stood there- windblown and dripping- his bent umbrella still open in his hands.

Shane hastily stirred, taking a backpack from out behind him that still was covered in the stickers and tape from the airport. In fact, all of him wreaked of the airport. His hair was askew, his clothing was wrinkled, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days…

“I-“

The mere sound of his voice was enough to make Ryan want to faint.

“I brought you a keychain.”

From his hand Shane let a figurine of a Chicago hot dog wearing sunglasses dangle down.

“That’s-“ Ryan didn’t know if he was going to laugh or cry, “That’s the fucking ugliest piece of junk I have ever seen.”

Shane, incensed, got up and swung it in front of Ryan’s nose- as if proximity would make the airbrush shading look better. It didn't.

“This little guy is dope as fuck Ryan- he’s a radical little dog! Ugly? You think he’s ugly?”

Ryan was nodding passionately, laughing his fucking head off, practically collapsing.

“He’s even got a chain on Ryan-“ Shane composure was slipping, “Fucking drip- look it says C- for fucking Chicago-“

Ryan folded up against the door, seizing from the absolute fever dream of joy coursing through his body.

“He’s meant for you!”

“Meant for me?” Ryan sputtered.

“Yeah-“

“Yeah?’

“ _Ryan._ ”

The downshift in Shane’s tone made Ryan suddenly stop for a moment and look back up at him. The actual reality of this whole interaction came crashing in. His eyes widened. Shane was back. Shane was fucking back.

“I-“

Shane furiously kissed him, nullifying any power words could have held in that moment.

_Growing together. Being together. Staying together._

Somewhere between the hungry pecks, Ryan fumbled for his pass card and kicked back the door to the hallway of the dorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!! they be back together !!!!!!!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!!!!! I'm finally back- sorry for the long hiatus- I truly am!!! I just got busy and then the headspace to write was just mucked up with stress and other things but phew!!! We're back on track with the boys <33333333333
> 
> :DDD 
> 
> Anyways I'm excited!

Half covered by the twisted folds of the blanket, Ryan laid with his back flat out against the floor of his room, shaking from his core like a leaf. The afterglow was as consumptive as a fever in his bones- burning him up from the inside out. Fuck. He could sink into the cosmos right there and just fucking reincarnate. Just- holy shit- holy fucking shit…

Shane was still laid on top of him- his head against his chest- his hands still wrapped around Ryan’s shoulders- skin still on fucking skin in the tangle of hastily thrown down bedding. The pathetic little twin bed was barely big enough for Ryan- let alone Shane- let alone the both of them- so it had been the floor.

Shane seemed exhausted and listless- his breath barely moving- and Ryan wrapped his arms around him. It seemed like there should have been something to say. But what do you say… what do you say… Ryan felt it forming in the back of his throat- the three little words. His still glassy eyes blinked slowly in longing and in thought.

Shane suddenly tensed in his touch- uncomfortably- and rolled off of him with a deep sigh. And Ryan felt suddenly overwhelmingly thankful that he had not said anything. After all that- Shane was still Shane- that was clear. No matter how- well- absolutely and startlingly- ah- enthusiastic he had been…

There was still so much Ryan didn’t know about him- like how on earth did he learn to fuck like that- and- and well… perhaps that was just a distraction from everything else… like how Shane hadn’t and wasn’t talking either.

Shane slowly sat up, the sheet falling away from him so that his back was open to the air. There was a heaviness to how he bent over himself, and Ryan was struck by how he looked. In the heat of things, there hadn’t been much time or consciousness for just looking. Shane seemed aware of this- not necessarily uncomfortable- but more accepting of the notion that yes- physically there were no more walls now- nothing to hide behind.

Shane skin was pale- paler than what was usually visible- and there were scars here and there.

_Surgery? Childhood scrapes? Accidents?_

“So that’s where you keep them,” Shane whispered.

Ryan’s eye-line jumped to the bookcase where Shane was staring. The books.

“You-“ Ryan propped himself up, “You knew?”

Shane held his head down for a moment longer, “I knew.”

“Did you-”

“See you- come in every Friday into my shop and buy them…” Shane cut, turning back to him.

Ryan choked, “Ah- Yeah…”

Shane made a soft smirk, before looking once again at the shelf. “No… actually…”

Shane let out a groan before stretching out to his toes, perhaps in an intent to appear casual and cool- like he hadn’t jetted off to Chicago because of him- like he hadn’t just fucked him within an inch of his life- like this whole thing wasn’t a big deal.

“Actually,” Shane began again, “I didn’t even know- ah- who you were- I just noticed- when going over like sales and whatever,” He made a shrug, “Y’know trying to just understand what was- well being bought- and like I hadn’t expected really anyone to buy- let alone notice that little stand and-“ He brought himself even farther in and coughed. “Well- ah- you know you use your student ID right for the discount and like you know it shows in the system- next to purchases- and like well I noticed that this same digit was appearing every Friday and that they were well- buying- well the books. And- well I had to admit that I was- well at least a little bit ah curious…”

Shane’s face was turned away from him but Ryan could tell his cheeks were crimson- something about how Shane’s voice wavered… Yes, he was definitely blushing…

“I wasn’t really-“ Shane threw his hands around more, as if he had dug himself into some sort of hole. “I didn’t really want to talk to people at the time. It was hard enough trying to just sort myself out- let alone try to tackle ah- interaction- and I just- well- you know I thought that if someone had at least read the things that I had read- and you know had kept on reading them- then- well there would at least be that to- ah- talk about…”

Shane was playing with the sheet now, “So- yeah- so well I didn’t expect- I didn’t know you- y’know anything- like how uh- well that you were so…”

Ryan’s face was crimson now too.

“I guess I didn’t imagine it- I didn’t think I would ever end up like this with anyone- for a long long time- I didn’t expect this to happen to me- for me- or-“ He caught his breath, before running both of his hands over his head, “But I guess that is pretty apparent- that I- well- that it’s been a while and even- ah- back in the day I don’t think I ever- ah- that it was well ever anything really more than just like just the… you understand… I was never particularly concerned without how things were supposed to be after because usually there really wasn’t an after- there barely was a before- and so yeah- sorry- if I don’t seem together… right now…”

Shane balled up the sheet in his hands.

“So yeah-“ He said mentally shoving everything away, “Books- did you have a- a favorite?”

Shane glanced back at Ryan, and his fragile and fabricated optimism fell through.

“I’m not a kid Shane…” Ryan softly murmured. “Like I mean I’m not a fucking terrible person- I mean- isn’t that what we are- I guess trying to get over or fucking something but- I’m- I’m not- you know I have lived is what I’m saying… you don’t have to like apologize or skirt around that type of shit. It’s okay. You don’t have to come up with something else to talk about or say- like yeah- I mean- it’s not like- well it’s not like I have-”

Shane's face was growing concerned and Ryan began to get flustered. Shane wasn’t supposed to get concerned about him- Shane was supposed to be concerned about himself.

“You just- you don’t gotta- and like because…”

Ryan could feel himself bottling up like a hypocrite. Yeah- encourage him to talk while you proceed to shut down. Fantastic example. Fuck.

“I guess- if you need to hear it- I mean- I guess I am ready to talk about stuff- and like you don’t have to say anything- you don’t have to say anything Shane- if you don’t want to or can’t or whatever that’s fine- but I’m ready- Shane- I’m ready to talk and you don’t have to worry about saying anything cause this isn’t about that- about you being worried- about me or yourself or whatever- it’s just about...”

Ryan didn’t know what it was about. Things were too fuzzy. His mind had just returned to his body what felt like only moments ago. His heart was ahead of him. Everything was a jumble

Shane put his hand back down behind him and leaned against it, his head tilted towards the ceiling, “I- I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not even sure I do.”

Shane laughed like something was funny- like it was obvious that Ryan _did_ understand- like Ryan _did_ know what it was about.

“You think you’re awful,” Ryan mentioned bluntly.

As soon as he said it he was surprised how alike he and Shane were sounding now. That was not something he would have said a few weeks ago. Shane seemed a bit taken aback too- realizing with unnerving clarity what it felt like to be on the other side of the barrel.

Shane’s laughter lightly died and became somber. “I try- I try not to think about it… not good for the noggin- that junk- you see… pollution of sorts… but it’s whatever it’s something that’s there so it is what it is sometimes.”

_It is what it is._

Ryan caved in a little inside at the casualness. It was clear the Shane was passed being upset by it. It was a fact of life. It was internalized. Either that or Shane was avoiding things as always- to lower the level of concern- to glaze over things.

“But you did think about it,” Ryan continued.

“It had occurred to me.” Shane said motionless, “I so often used people. I so often have been used. That yes, it had occurred. That in some way…”

The tender moment had collapsed into clouds of guilt. Ryan couldn’t even picture it- Shane being like that. But then, perhaps Shane couldn’t picture all the things that Ryan had done either.

“Yeah, well fuck that,” Ryan cut.

Shane’s eyebrows went up- his gloom morphing with confusion.

“Fuck it?”

“Yeah,”

“Why?”

“Cause-” Ryan’s voice cracked, “This…”

His voice dissolved on contact with the air. Violent pains. It hurt in his chest. He wasn’t ready for this role reversal. Was this how it felt for Shane every time he dug into him? Just talk- get it the fuck out. Why now- why did he say that he was ready- he wasn’t- he wasn’t ready-

Shane’s hand, the one that had been outstretched behind him, reached out and skimmed Ryan's knee before grasping his thigh reassuringly. Ryan's mental jitters calmed to a deafening stillness.

“I mean…” Ryan’s eyes darted up, “I mean how many times is too many.”

“Too many?” Shane asked turning fully to him.

Ryan shied away from him, “I mean…” His head was ringing now.

“How- how many car accidents…”

Shane’s touch became firmer.

“How many failed classes…”

Shane was sputtering something he couldn’t hear.

“How many fucks…”

The room became painfully quiet. But there was no turning back.

“How many nights- y’know?”

Ryan’s hands were clamming up against each other.

“I mean what’s the safe- the fucking normal amount of times- to be lying on a stranger’s fucking couch shaking to death from the alcohol poisoning or the mix of Christ knows whatever- how many times do you gotta wake up not knowing who you are before it becomes a fucking problem? I mean people don't talk about it. Like- it’s what supposed to happen when you move out. You do stupid things and it's a laugh but when does it become a pattern- when is it a problem… Like… is there even a number- cause- like- cause I feel like I’ve fucking crossed it- like I’m over it… been over it- and if there’s anyone that's been used and uses I feel like it’s probably fucking me and-”

“Ry- I doubt- I didn’t know-“

“It’s not like its like that now…” Ryan said, more emotionally than he had hoped to. “Like I said this isn’t about you or anything- this isn’t about that-“

_That._ Maybe Shane did understand _that._

“It’s just… You don’t have to try to protect me from yourself. You don’t have to try to seem like things are better if there not. You don’t have to buffer or temper yourself for me. Because-“ Ryan felt the already overwhelming emotions growing with each confession. “It’s not like- I mean _it’s_ different isn't it- _it's_ different for everyone- but it’s not like _it_ doesn’t happen… like _it_ didn’t also happen- or does happen-“

“Does?”

“Just-“ Ryan held out his hand and Shane quieted. “It’s just that you know it felt normal and I never thought about it and it's odd how normal it felt- and in retrospect, I think I was scared as fuck that it felt normal… you know… I couldn’t seem to get it together enough to be who I wanted to be- so who was I?”

_Who am I?_ He almost said. But that was too much. The point. Where was the point? There was one wasn’t there? There had to be a reason for this babbling. Shane edged closer to him. Ryan could feel himself flush all over.

“I-“ Ryan was holding on for dear life. “I just don’t want you to try to normalize… ah anything… for my sake. Because normalizing and minimizing- it ah- it doesn’t work- not thinking about it- I- I don’t think works… Because it didn’t work- I don’t think for me… so it’s okay- is what I’m saying- or something- and- I don’t want you to think that you have to do anything to try to make it seem better than what it is- because it’s fine if it isn’t…”

Shane was blank. Ryan hated the blankness- hated it. Things he had never even put together out loud for anyone, including himself- he had just poured them out.

Poured them out for nothing? That was the greatest fear, wasn’t it? That there would be no answer even after everything had been said- That there would only be the foreboding of the quiet room and the dread. That was the risk. That was the bargain. But hadn’t he said that Shane didn’t need to say anything? He had hadn't he…

It was just- he hadn’t thought ahead enough to realize how much “nothing” could hurt- and it did hurt…

“I know it’s not good.” Shane finally said, “But its how I deal with things. It’s-” He took a labored breath, “I’m not who I was. There was a concern… but I am- well I’m not.”

Yes, Chicago. Unspoken admittance of needed closure and of personal confrontations with memories once removed was transmitted. Ryan thought about how he hadn’t really been been home in years. Shane was stronger than he gave him credit for.

“I’m just not who I want to be.” Shane murmured, “Or for that matter- I’m not sure how to be. I tried to just exist- to just be happy with that- just happy to merely live- but- well ah you- I suppose happened to that plan-” Shane smiled shyly while shrugging. “And you continue to happen…”

“Is that-“ Ryan rested his head against his knee, bracing himself, “Is that a good thing.”

Shane made a small noise with his breath, before letting his head fall heavily against Ryan’s shoulder.

“Yes.”

Shane’s breath flushed warmly against Ryan’s back. The world felt complete as they laid at the center of its axis, drinking in the essence of the present tones. Ryan’s vision became watery and clear. He wanted to dip in a pitcher and bathe in it- the closeness- the nearness- he wanted it to never leave his skin or his sights- he wanted it to rest on him forever.

Eventually- perhaps minutes or hours later- the floor was left in favor of a shower. Together they somehow crammed together in it. It didn’t make sense- trying to both fit- but it also didn’t make sense to part for even a few moments.

Gently, Shane made several cautious attempts to ladle water onto the gaps where Ryan missed the spray. It wasn’t like they weren’t touching every other second- they couldn't help it- but there was something about the act. It was intimate to the extreme.

Yes- the _after_ \- as Shane had put it. Unexplored territory. Terrifying- in a way.

Had he ever done this with someone… Ryan’s mind swirled… It was strange- in the all relationships he had had, Ryan had never felt so acutely aware of things. It was as if he had never been in a relationship before.

Ha. Perhaps there was truth in that thought. Surely, someone had mattered. It seemed crazy to even entertain the thought. But Ryan did entertain it. Dwelled on it actually- in the small shower- and in the sleepy warm covering of the bed that came after.

It was an ordeal, refitting the bed and somehow wriggling into it, but it was done. Shane fell almost directly to sleep, but Ryan stayed awake.

_After._

But what was next.... Were feelings going to somehow magically come out? Were they just going to say that they loved each other now? Was it going to be easier now- or harder… Who did they even want to be… did even matter that he didn’t know…

The steady feeling of Shane next to him was hypnotic. He didn’t want to forget it, or even entertain the notion of giving it up. Things would have to be said.

_Relationship…_

Yes, a relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :DD emotional vulnerability?? what is this?? actual communication??? 
> 
> As always thank u so so so much for reading and being so supportive :DDDD


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